“Whew that was SOME party,” Justin slurs as he stumbles towards the curb, his voice echoing harshly off the alleyway walls.

 

“Yeah some party,” you sigh, struggling to keep hold of his jacket and yours along with the gift bags you both had received from the event.

 

The driver has stepped out of the sleek black Lincoln, strolling quickly up the driver’s side of the car and rounding the front end, opening the back door. Justin grins widely at him and you cringe but the driver’s expression does not change. He merely holds open the door, waiting for Justin to climb in the car.

 

“Why’d we have to leave again?” Justin asks, turning to look at you, his face pulled into a perplexed expression.

 

“Justin,” you say, looking at him blankly. “Its 6 o’clock in the morning. The sun is coming up.”

 

He looks around squinting at the growing lightness and chuckles to himself.

 

“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” he sighs and then turns to the driver. “Did you see that comin?”

 

You sigh. “Justin, get in the car baby please.”

 

This party was supposed to have been boring, some casino night birthday bash of a nameless record executive held at some fancy hotel. Justin had been bitching about it for a week and a half. About how he didn’t wanna go, and it was just some big ass kissing thing, and how it wasn’t even a party it was work because his manager insisted he make an “appearance.” He had invited you along merely because he wanted someone to be tortured with. That and he loved seeing you in little cocktail numbers that were so unlike your usual casual attire. You figured you two would show up, have a couple mojitos, maybe do a little bump and grind and then head back home for some bump and grind behind closed doors.

 

Well, about a million games of black jack and fourteen Jack and Cokes later…

 

“Hey, have we met?” Justin asks, leaning close to the driver, nearly toppling into him and the other man takes a step back.

 

You sigh rushing forward to grip Justin’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper softly and then rest your chin against Justin’s shoulder. “Come on honey get in the car.”

 

He trips backwards, stepping on your foot in the process and you press your lips together so not to cry out, the pain crippling your toes. You heave a shaky sigh. The man is testing your patience.

 

“Oh jeez baby I’m sorry,” he says, his hazy eyes softening as he cups your face tenderly albeit slightly clumsy. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yes,” you say, gripping his wrists and smiling at him softly, all annoyance melting away for a moment when he grins at you. “Come on, let’s get home.”

 

“Ladies first,” he says, his voice low, bending his legs in an ungraceful bow and you can’t help but giggle.

 

You slide across the smooth leather seat of the town car and he bends to crawl in after you, trying to fold his lanky frame through the door. He cracks his head on the roof of the car, your gasp loud in the early morning silence and his face is scrunched up as he settles in beside you, the driver pushing the door closed with a soft thump. You untangle your hands from the mess of coats and bags in your lap to turn his face to yours. He’s rubbing the red spot on his forehead, his nose scrunched up, his lips a tight line. You fuss over him, smoothing the curls from his forehead and pressing a soft kiss to angry spot, the skin slightly fevered from agitation.

 

“Are you okay?” you ask, your thumb stroking his cheekbone as the car pulls out of the alley and turns onto the main road, the early morning sun casting everything in a hazy yellow.

 

“Yeah it didn’t hurt,” he says, rubbing the spot roughly and then looking out his window at the buildings passing by. “Wow that really was some party.”

 

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Yes. It was a smashing good time.”

 

He doesn’t catch your sarcasm. “Yeah it really was!!! I was good at black jack.” He nods.

 

You cringe. You can only imagine how much money he lost. He’s humming softly to himself, fingers tapping on his knee and his eyes are trained on the window, watching as West Hollywood crawls by. He gasps suddenly.

 

“Stop the car,” he says abruptly, reaching out to smack the passenger seat with the back of his hand. “Stop!”

 

“Oh god are you gonna be sick?” you ask, looking around as the car slows, praying to god there are no cameras lurking in the bushes.

 

“No,” he says waving you off as he climbs out of the car and you watch slack jawed as he jogs to the sidewalk and then turns right, heading back the way you came and disappearing from your line of vision.

 

Your heart seizes. “Justin!”

 

You scramble out of the car after him, and see that he’s about twenty feet down the sidewalk, his hands flat against a large show window, nose pressed against the glass. You struggle to jog towards him, the four inch spikes on your feet inhibiting your gait tremendously and it takes you a moment before you reach his side.

 

The window he’s looking though gazes in on a large showroom and sitting prominently in front of the glass is a sports car, fire engine red, revolving on a circular platform. The slant of the body is such that it dips down towards the front bumper, giving the illusion that it is racing perilously forward even though it is inert, aside from the agonizingly slow spin of its platform.

 

“I want that,” he says, jabbing his finger against the window and you sigh, hooking your arm through his.

 

“Come on, J,” you sigh, tugging on him lightly. “I’m tired let’s go home huh?”

 

“I want that,” he says, more forcefully this time, poking hard at the window. He squints. “Hey there’s someone in there!”

 

You freeze, mortified as he draws his hand into a fist and bangs the bottom of his clenched palm against the glass, rattling it hard in the pane and shattering the early morning silence.

 

“HEY!!!!” he yells, stopping his pounding to throw his arm over his head and wav animatedly. “HEY!!! YOU!!! YEAH YOU!!!! I WANNA BUY THIS CAR!!!!”

 

He points at the sports car, still revolving slowly in front of you. You squint yourself and see a man with graying hair in a business suit. He seems to have stopped dead in his tracks, his face completely astonished as he gapes at the two of you standing in the window.

 

“Justin!” you whisper heatedly, tugging hard on his arm. “You’re going to get arrested. Now let’s get in the car!”

 

“Stop pullin’ on me,” he scowls, slapping your hands away. “HEY!!! I WANT THIS CAR!!! COME ON, I BROUGHT SEXY BACK!!! I GOT CREDIT!!!”

 

You press your hand to your face, mortified. “Justin…”

 

“No wait!” he exclaims, his hand digging into his pockets and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head when he pulls out a two wads of cash so thick his fingers barely wrap around them. “I GOT CASH!!!!”

 

The man is walking quickly toward the window and Justin grins widely as he stumbles towards the glass doors of the dealership, trying to shove the money back in his pockets. You’re so shocked it takes you a minute to scramble after him. The man follows Justin to the doors, not opening them, looking at him apprehensively through the glass.

 

“HI!” Justin exclaims jovially, still trying to work the wads of cash into his pockets.

 

“Can I help you with something, sir?” the older man asks, looking at Justin curiously as if he’s trying to place him in his memory.

 

“I’m so sorry,” you say, grabbing Justin’s arm and trying to tug him back toward the town car where the driver has gotten out, watching the scene perplexed. You press your lips to Justin’s ear. “Justin you are embarrassing me and yourself. Stop this right now!”

 

He doesn’t seem to hear. “I wanna buy that car,” Justin says through the glass and presses his cheek against the pane, trying to see the car from where he stands and he points. “That one.” He pulls back and nods, still struggling to get his money back in his pockets.

 

“Justin,” you moan, looking back at the driver down the street. “The car is waiting. It’s late…or early...or something. Come on!”

 

Justin turns and looks down the street where the Lincoln is idling and raises his hand, still clutching his money. “GO ON WE’RE FINE!”

 

“Justin!” you exclaim looking from him to the driver who looks just as shocked as you.

 

“IT’S COOL. GO!!” Justin hollers, nodding his head and you watch in horror as the driver slowly gets in and begins to pull away.

 

“No!” you exclaim, running to the curb waving your arms but it’s too late. The town car has already disappeared around the corner. “Justin,” you say, your voice holding a barely controlled edge. “I swear in the name of everything that is holy I’m going to-”

 

You turn around just in time to see a look of realization dawning the man’s face and he’s struggling to unlock the doors of the dealership. Great.

 

“You’re Justin Timberlake,” he says smiling and Justin grins widely nodding enthusiastically.

 

“That I am!” he exclaims, clapping the man on the back just a little too hard. “Been him my whole life. Ain’t that a bitch?”

 

You and the man blink after him slack jawed as he strolls into the showroom, looking around amused. The man looks at you and you both just stare at each other for a moment before he stands aside, holding the door open for you. You walk inside, following Justin who is standing in the middle of the showroom now, looking around slightly confused.

 

“How can I help you sir,” the man asks, walking up behind you and Justin turns to look at him.

 

“I lost my car,” he pouts, looking around and reaching to scratch his forehead but realizes he’s still holding his money and settles for rubbing it with the back of his hand instead.

 

“Your car, sir?” the man asks slightly confused and Justin nods.

 

“The red one,” Justin responds looking in the opposite direction and you cringe when you see that it’s about thirty feet behind him, still revolving slowly.

 

“The red one, sir?” the man asks, looking around the show room and you see that indeed there are several red cars in the showroom.

 

“The Corvette,” Justin says, still gazing around perplexed and then he looks at you both and grins. “You know…” he chuckles and then snaps his fingers singing “Liiiiiittle Red Corvette!” shimmying his shoulders and wiggling his hips. You can’t help but giggle despite yourself.

 

“Ah yes,” the man says, walking up to Justin and chuckling slightly as he grips his arms lightly, turning him around so he faces the car. Justin’s face lights up.

 

“There she is!” he exclaims, bouncing slightly. “Here babe, take this.”

 

You can’t even speak as he hands you the two wads of bills, thick rolls of hundreds wrapped in rubber bands. You stare down at it dumbfounded as he just walks away, the older man following quickly after him.

 

“Sir!” the man says, clearly afraid that your drunk boyfriend is going to do something stupid and frankly so are you.

 

“How much?” Justin asks, gauging the distance from the floor to the platform and the older man grabs his biceps before he gets the bright idea of trying to climb up.

 

“Sir, perhaps you could come back later. We’re not even open yet and you seem to be…um…not in the right frame of mind for purchasing a vehicle,” the man says delicately and he reaches into his breast pocket, plucking out a business card. “My name is Ron Wiessman and I’d be happy to-”

 

 “Hey Ron, I’m Justin how the hell are ya?” Justin exclaims, clapping Ron on the back again and the older man grimaces at the force of it. “Tell me about this beauty here.

 

Ron looks from Justin to you and then back again, clearly debating whether or not to humor this inebriated celebrity or to politely (or maybe even not so politely) usher him out of his dealership. Clearly the idea of a possible sale wins out.

 

“This is our newest ZR1 model. Not even released yet,” Ron says and Justin nods, his eyes roving over the sleek curves of the car. “It has a 100 horsepower LS9 engine, the most powerful engine to be put in an American production sports car. She reaches 205 miles per hour. Zero to sixty in 2 seconds. Carbon ceramic brakes. Full rear lip spoiler.”

 

“That’s real nice, Ron,” Justin says and much to your horror and Ron’s he some how manages to climb onto the platform, losing his footing from the slow rotation and has to hoist himself up on his belly before getting his feet under him and standing.

 

Ron clears his throat as Justin shoves his head through the open window. “Heated leather seats. On-star Navigation-”

 

“Honey you should see this!” Justin exclaims, his voice muffled from inside the car. He struggles to extract himself from the open window and bumps the back of his head hard on the roof of the car, emitting a soft ‘omph.’

 

“Bose audio system, auxiliary audio input jack-”

 

“Ron, you can stop with the sales pitch,” Justin says, bending his knees and readying himself to jump from the platform.

 

You open your mouth to protest but he’s already jumped and by the grace of God landed on his feet, wobbling only slightly.

 

“Sir, I would be happy to show you this car later in the afternoon.” Ron says smoothly. “The banks aren’t even open yet.”

 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Justin asks absently, watching the car revolve slowly.

 

“Well, we’ll need to discuss financing…” Ron says carefully.

 

Justin scoffs. “I don’t need financing!”

 

“Sir,” Ron says, leaning close to the younger man and whispering. “This car is $100,000.”

 

Justin laughs, actually laughs and throws an arm around Ron’s shoulders. “You see that girl there?” Justin asks leaning into him and pointing at you grinning. “That there is my girlfriend.”

 

He beams at you and you sigh, shifting uncomfortably as they both look at you. “Justin…”

 

“Hot isn’t she?” he giggles and Ron chuckles, nodding slightly. You blush. “And do you see what she’s holding there. Hold it up for him, baby.”

 

You sigh, raising your arms weakly, the bills almost heavy in your fists. Ron eyes the money and then looks at Justin who’s grinning widely.

 

“That’s about…oh…$128,000 I’d say,” Justin says and your eyes nearly bug out of your head, looking at the money in your hands astonished. “Wonderful game, black jack.” Justin grins. “You double or nothing about eight times and you can buy a Corvette with some left over.”

 

Ron is looking from you to him slack jawed and you imagine your expression is quite the same. Justin grins widely holding on to Ron as he steers them around, looking about the room, squinting.

 

“Now how the hell are we gonna get this thing outta here?”

 

Half an hour later your hands are shaking as you maneuver the shiny red corvette out the open doors of the dealership, Ron waving jovially at you both as you pass. Justin leans over you waving animatedly and you nearly hyperventilate from the stress as you pull out onto the street.

 

“BYE!!!” Justin yells and then settles back against the cool leather of the passenger seat, sighing. “Nice guy that Ron.”

 

“Yeah great guy,” you mutter, concentrating hard on the road, deathly afraid of anything that may jump out and ding the perfect candy red paint.

 

You figure that once he sobers up he’ll want to return it. He’ll still lose about twenty five grand but that’s better than the hundred ten he just blew. You still can’t believe he gave Ron ten grand “for his trouble.” You thought the old man was going to keel over dead.

 

“Little red corvette,” Justin sings under his breath and you fight the urge to roll your eyes as you watch him, tap his fingers on his leg in rhythm with the song. “Baby you’re much too fast…”

“You’ve lost your mind you know that,” you say unable to stop yourself, not taking your eyes off the road. “You can’t just…just buy a car.”

 

He doesn’t seem to have heard you. “Little red corvette.”

You jump as you feel his large hand smooth down your arm, covering your hand on the gear shift. He leans over the console, nuzzling your cheek affectionately and you can’t help but shiver.

 

“Why so tense baby?” he asks and you scoff.

 

“Why am I tense?” you ask, wanting so badly to turn your head and glare at him but not wanting to risk it. “Why am I tense? I’m driving a band new, hundred thousand dollar Corvette, Justin!”

 

“Mmmm,” he hums and you gasp as his lips find the sweet spot under your ear. “You look good doing it too.”

 

This is ridiculous. He’s drunk. He’s drunk and cannot be held accountable for his actions and you can only imagine what he’ll be like when he sobers up. He’s shifting in his seat one hand moving to clutch your head rest while the other traces your kneecap lightly. What is he doing?

 

“What are you doing?” you ask, your eyes flicking from the road to his fingers that are walking up the expanse of your exposed thigh.

 

“Nothin’” he says lowly, his breath warm on your ear and you swallow hard, trying to concentrate on the road as you turn off Sunset onto Laurel Canyon Boulevard.

 

His fingers reach the hem of your dress, his calloused fingertips cool against the warm skin of your inner thigh. You gasp as his fingers slip higher, under the hemline and between your legs, brushing your lacy panties. He smirks.

 

“You planning on me seein’ these darling?” he asks lowly, his fingers stroking slowly and your breathing hitches as a full body shiver shakes through you, causing you to nearly miss your turn onto Mulholland.

 

“I…I thought…” you stammer, trying to concentrate as the road begins to twist and turn into the mountains but his fingers are stroking you softly, his touch barely there.

 

“You thought what?” he asks, his warm breath fanning your cheek and you can smell the whiskey on his breath, pungent yet intoxicating.

 

“I thought we’d go home earlier,” you manage to stutter, your hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

 

“Oh I’m sorry baby,” he whispers softly, his voice laced with lust and his fingers press harder against you and a soft ripple of pleasure courses through you. “If you needed my dick you shoulda said something.”

 

You gasp as his tongue traces the outer shell of your ear, his fingers stroking your panties lightly as his other hand moves from the head rest to wrap in your hair. He massages your scalp slowly as the fingers of his other hand slip beneath the elastic of your panties, and you moan as he finds your clit instantly.

 

The car whines in protest and you tense, realizing you sped up into fourth gear without shifting and you struggle to correct it, Justin chuckling lightly in your ear. You’re almost home. You just have to get yourselves home. Just concentrate on the road. Concentrate on the road and not the way his fingers are stroking you so slowly not his mouth on your neck, not his breath hot against your ear.

 

You gasp when he presses two long fingers inside you, your body clutching at him and you can feel him smirk against your ear, his thumb rubbing soft circles over your clit. You shiver, wiggling restlessly and almost miss the turn off onto his street, your vision blurring with pleasure.

 

“Fuck baby you’re wet,” he pants, sucking lightly at your pulse point and you whimper, trying to focus on the small road barely large enough for two cars to drive down. You pray no one crosses your path because you don’t know if you could concentrate enough to stay in your own lane. “God, you’re practically dripping on my seats.”

 

You shiver. He’s always such a dirty bastard when he’s drunk and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it. You love how gravelly his voice is, how it’s like a rough caress, how he spits obscenities with just enough force to jolt your unsuspecting brain and it sends a pulse of pleasure down your spine directly to your pussy. But all thought leaves you as his fingers curve inside you, sending a sharp rolling wave of pleasure through you and your head falls back for a second before you remember you’re driving. You gasp, trying to focus on the road and thank god you’re almost to his gate.

 

He’s panting against your neck still, his fingers wrapped in your hair as his other hand…god his other hand. You feel him smirk against your skin, his tongue lashing out against the crook of your neck and you turn quickly – a little too quickly – into his driveway, feeling the back tires slide slightly and your body tenses but his thumb presses harder on your clit and you cry out, all thought gone except the intense pleasure he gives.

 

“Baby you’re much to fast,” he breathes, half sings into your ear as you roll your window down, reaching with a trembling hand to punch in the access code, the large wooden gate swinging open in front of you.

 

You pull the car up in front of his house, throwing it immediately into park, not even bothering to kill the engine before you turn and grab a hold of his tie, tugging him towards you. Your lips crash into his with so much force it almost hurts but god you just want him.

 

He pulls back just slightly, nipping teasingly at your bottom lip and you whine as his fingers leave you but it melts into a moan as he brings his hand to his lips and sucks them clean before grabbing your face in both hands and kissing you hard. His tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth thoroughly as his hands wander down your body, playing over the silk of your dress, tweaking your nipples through the fabric.

 

You gasp as his lips drag down your chest and you’re so caught up in it that it takes you a beat to realize that he’s singing breathily against your skin.

 

“A body like yours oughta be in jail,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your chest, the softness of his lips teasing the top of your breasts exposed by your dress. “Cause it’s on the verge of bein’ obscene…”

 

His fingers have found the zipper at your back and are tugging down while his other hand brushes the straps of your dress down, tugging on the front until your breasts are exposed, his head dipping to flick at one of your nipples with his tongue and you moan, your hand fisting in his curls, tugging wickedly.

“Move over baby,” he murmurs and you look at him perplexed before realizing he’s still singing. He pulls back just slightly, smirking as he grabs your thigh. “Gimme the keys…”

 

You gasp as he drags you over the console and into his lap, your knees sinking into the leather on either side of his hips, moaning when you feel him hard and straining at the fly of his trousers. He smirks up at you, his hands moving to brush your hair back from your face and you’re ravenous for him, hands fumbling with his belt, your pussy throbbing.

 

“I’m gonna try to tame your little red love machine.”

 

He gasps as your hand slips in the fly of his pants, reaching past his boxers to touch him skin on skin and his head falls back against the headrest, his hips pushing forward and you need him right now. And so does he, apparently, because his hands are pushing up the hem of your dress, the song forgotten as he grunts, fingers hooking in the waistband of your panties.

 

You shake your head, reaching down to just move them aside, your body on fire, not wanting to wait and he growls in appreciation. He grips the base of his cock, guiding it to your entrance and you shift forward slightly, feeling the silken head slide against your folds. You gasp as he slips in slowly, crushing your chest to his, your hands wrapping in his hair as his settle on your hips forcing you down, slowly, torturously until your hips are flush against his.

 

He’s sucking on the crook of your neck, his hands sliding up your back, searching for the skin exposed by the open v of your dress, panting in anticipation. You shift slightly, settling more on your knees, both moaning at the unexpected friction and you find you can’t stop, your hips twitching restlessly against his. He pants, fingers digging into your hips and he flicks his wrists, a whimper tearing from your throat as he lifts you nearly all the way off him but you moan when he allows you to slide back down, burying himself in your folds again.

 

You pull back slightly to watch his face, his eyes dark, brows furrowed in pleasure. His head tips back and his eyes close, a low groan pulling from his throat before he brings his head up again, eyes locking on yours and smirking. His hands smooth down your hips to grip your ass, squeezing hard and you moan at the unexpected pleasure.

 

“You like riding my cock?” he asks lowly and a flash of heat travels through you, biting your lip and nodding. “Yeah ya do… fuck you’re so wet. You feel so fucking good.”

 

He growls pulling you roughly down against him and you cry out, his dick hitting your spot harshly and it almost hurts…almost. You shiver as he does it again, pushing you back and the pulling you against him hard, causing your breathing to hitch with every aching thrust, the pleasure so intense.

 

“This turns you on doesn’t it?” he asks lowly and you shiver at the gravelly sound of his voice, breathless with lust and excitement. “Fucking me in my brand new car, dripping on my seats, my fucking dick inside you…”

 

You tremble, your body sucking at him and you know you’re close and with the way he’s smirking at you so does he. He dips his head, sucking at your neck, his teeth dragging down to the hollow of your throat and you gasp when his hand comes down hard on your ass.

 

“I asked if it turned you on,” he says, licking his lips and you tremble, your legs shaking and you’re so close. His voice drops impossibly low, “I asked if you liked my cock in your pussy.”

 

Your mouth falls open, your voice squeaking in the back of your throat and it’s the only sound you can make. God you can’t even form thoughts right now. They way he’s moving inside you. The way he’s speaking to you…

 

SMACK. “I asked you…” SMACK. “if it turned you on….:” he growls, licking his lips slowly before smirking again. “Does it make you wet?” he chuckles, “well I know it makes you wet.”

 

His chuckle melts into a moan when you grip onto his shoulders, using him for leverage as you slam your body down onto his, stealing his breath and his hands fly to your hips, nails digging in. You’re moaning softly now, chasing the coil in your stomach and his hips are lifting restlessly up into yours.

 

“Come on baby,” he grunts, pressing back into the seat, his hips pushing up against yours as you ride him frantically, your pussy on fire. “Fuck me!”

 

His hand comes down hard on your ass again and you cry out, your back arching and you feel him slide deeper into you, if that’s even possible, and your breathing hitches hard, your body sucking at his. He gasps, fingers gripping your hips hard, tugging you against him recklessly and you can feel yourself begin to tremble. So close…so close…

 

“God,” he chokes, swallowing hard and his eyes meet yours, black with lust as he grounds out. “Come for me baby. Squeeze my fucking dick.”

 

Your orgasm slams into you full force, your voice echoing harshly inside the small car as you cry out his name, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. His head falls back, choking on his own breath as he pulls you roughly against him, crushing your body to his as he presses up hard into you and you feel him spill warmly down your thighs, your body still twitching over his.

 

You pull back from him slightly breathless and the goofy satisfied grin on his face makes you laugh, his eyes hazy and he’s still drunk and you should probably be very mad at him. You should probably be mad that he embarrassed you in front of the driver and in front of the guy at the dealership and that he spent a ridiculous amount of money on a whim but you can’t seem to bring yourself to feel anything but giddy right now.

 

“Well, that was amazing,” he grins, bringing his arms up to stretch and he smacks his hand into the window.

 

He frowns, looking at it offended and he shifts under you causing you to gasp, his body still inside yours, still hard. He smirks up at you, watching the way your eyelids fluttered and he licks his lips.

 

“Come on baby,” he slurs, reaching over to turn off the car while his other hand pushes his door open. “Let’s get inside so I can fuck you all proper like.”

 

You giggle as he shifts you from his lap, your heels hitting the pavement and you have to grip onto the Corvette to keep from wobbling, your legs still weak from orgasm. You look around, pulling your dress back over your chest, wondering who may be around. At Justin’s place it’s always a crap shoot. He steps out as well, buttoning his pants but the bulge is still prominent against his fly and you bite your lip, your knees trembling this time for an entirely different reason. He smirks at you, throwing an arm around your shoulders, pressing his mouth to your ear, breathing against it hotly. You gasp as his tongue traces the shell, a flash of heat traveling down your spine and settling between your legs. God the things this man does to you.

 

“You know I’m gonna fuck you good don’t you baby?” he breathes and it takes all of your willpower not to throw him down in the drive way. “Every position, on every surface, All…” he kisses your earlobe, “day…” he turns your face to his, “long…”

 

His mouth presses to yours and you moan, his tongue sliding hotly against yours and you clutch onto his vest, fingers fisting the soft fabric, your pussy throbbing. You pull back breathless and he grins at you hazily, opening the door for you and you step inside, turning when he doesn’t follow. He’s standing in the doorway, biting his lip, his eyes roving over you, a slow drunken grin pulling at his lips. You smirk, grabbing him by his tie and tugging.

 

“Come on big boy,” you tease lightly and he growls. “You’ve got some promises to keep.”

 

It’s evening before you resurface to consciousness, stumbling down the stairs for some coffee or some sort of caffeine, your legs sore and weak from being bent into positions even gymnasts would call uncomfortable. Not that you’re complaining. The man fucked you so good you were almost comatose from it. You smirk, sitting at the kitchen island and watching the sun set over the driveway, the dying light causing the Corvette to glimmer like a ruby in the sun.

 

You hear a loud groan echo down the stairs, the sound almost like that of a wounded animal and the hard thump of feet on wood. Your eyes widen as Justin appears, looking like death warmed over, his hair sticking out wildly in all directions, his face obscured by a day and a half’s growth of beard. His eyes are barely open, his forehead wrinkled in pain and he runs into the small table by the foot of the stairs, cursing vehemently than clutching his head in agony.

 

“Hey babe,” you say softly and he winces.

 

“Don’t…don’t yell,” he says, his voice barely audible and you have to fight the giggle in your throat as he claws at the air, reaching for the refrigerator doors.

 

“You feelin’ okay?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper and he groans.

 

“My whole body fucking hurts,” he whines and you smirk behind your coffee mug. “and I’ve got a bump on the back of my head the size of a walnut and a big red bump on my forehead.”

 

He rubs his head sighing as he grabs the carton of orange juice from the fridge and doesn’t even bother with a glass, just twists off the top and drinks out of it, something you know will disgust him later when he thinks back on it. He meanders towards the window, squinting out into the driveway.

 

“Hey babe,” he calls, bringing the carton to his lips. “Whose car is that in the driveway?”