“Justin, you said you would be there. You promised me you would be there,” you say as you watch your boyfriend peruse his closet for something to wear.

 

“I’m sorry, Katelyn!” he exclaims for the millionth time but you just stand there fuming, watching as he selects a blue and white button down.

 

“We’ve had this planned for weeks! All you had to do was fucking show up and have lunch. That was ALL you had to do. But no you couldn’t pull yourself away from the fucking golf course,” you rant and you know you’re being childish but dammit he embarrassed you. He rolls his eyes as grabs a white undershirt from the shelf in his closet.

 

“It was just a lunch, Katie,” he tries to rationalize as he pulls on a pair of khakis. “There will be others.”

 

“But you said you would be there!” you whine in a most unattractive way. “I looked like a fucking idiot. ‘Oh he’ll be here any minute.’ They looked at me like I was some pathetic…” you pause struggling for words through your frustration. “something!”

 

“What was I supposed to do Katelyn?” he shouts, his patience finally breaking as he tugs the wife beater over his head. “Say ‘Oh I’m sorry, I would love to play a round of golf with you Mr. Brenson because after all you are funding my golf tournament but you see my girlfriend is meeting some old college friends for lunch and she needs me to be there one up them and prove that she is more successful and desirable then them.’”

 

His words are like a slap in the face. Okay so maybe that was your ultimate agenda and yes you do feel bad for it but dammit, one of the girls became a lawyer, the other has a family and you… what do you have? A super cool waitressing job while you’re struggling to get your masters…and a famous boyfriend. You glare at him, anger boiling inside you, anger at yourself for stooping so low as to demean your relationship with him and anger at him for noticing it.

 

“Fuck you, Justin!” you spat, turning your heel and storming out of his bedroom.

 

He doesn’t even respond or follow you, which fuels your anger even more and when you reach the kitchen and see his keys laying enticingly on the counter you can’t stop yourself. You snatch the keys off the counter and head outside. You’ll make him sorry. You’ll make him so sorry.

 

You stomp outside, his Ferrari gleaming like a shined apple in the driveway. You stride up to it, a brief thought of dragging the keys along the door flitting through your mind but you shrug away the idea. You’re not that pissed. You grab the door handle and yank hard but it doesn’t budge. Figures. He’s so anal he locks his cars when he lives in a gated community and his house has its own personal gate.

 

You sigh, your hands shaking with anger as you search through his keys for the right one. Why does he have so many cars? Seriously what man needs seven fucking cars? You click one button and the Escalade lights up. You curse silently fumbling with the keys and finally the Ferrari opens to you. You’re just about to grab the handle when you hear his angry voice from across the driveway.

 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

 

You turn and find him storming towards you, the tails of his open shirt fluttering behind him, his face a hard mask of anger. You’re not allowed to drive the Ferrari. It’s like an unspoken rule that the two of you have. That fucking car is his baby. He washes it himself which is astonishing in its own right but he waxes and vacuums it on his own as well. Suddenly dragging the keys along the door sounds like a very good idea.

 

“I’m going for a drive,” you reply snottily and pull the door open.

 

“Not in my fucking car you aren’t,” he responds, his hand coming around your body to shove the door closed, his scent enveloping you.

 

You remember when he first got this car. He was so excited, telling you about all the features and you guys just sat in it for a little while, smelling the leather and talking. That is until he pulled you over the console and even though it was cramped and sticky it was still some of the best sex you’ve ever had. Why are you thinking about this now? You’re pissed at him… he’s an asshole.

 

“You’re such a fucking child, Justin,” you spat, reaching for the handle again, but his hand shoves the door closed as soon as you get it opened and you glare up at him.

 

“Give me the fucking keys, Katelyn,” he growls, his free hand covering the one of yours that is gripping his keys.

 

“Fuck you,” you spat, your fingers tightening around them, the metal digging into your palm painfully.

 

“Oh, now who’s being the child,” he spats, rolling his eyes as he tries to simultaneously hold the door closed and pry your fingers away from the keys.

 

He’s pressed against you, his body trapping yours against the car. You have one foot between his, struggling against him, trying to push him away. In doing this your hip is pressed against his crotch and you can feel the results of the friction you’re creating in struggling against him, his dick starting to harden in his pants.

 

“I said, No!” he says through gritted teeth finally peeling your fingers from around the keys and taking them from you.

 

“Well, I said yes!” you growl, snatching the keys back from him and shoving hard against his chest and he stumbles back slightly shocked.

 

You take the opportunity to turn and open the door quickly. You begin to step into the car but you yelp as you feel him grip your wrist and your body is being spun. You struggle against him as he tries to drag you around the front of the car towards the house. You’re trying to plant your feet but your flip flops merely skid across the gravel.

 

“Goddammit, Katie!” he screams as you tug hard against him and he releases you.

 

You stumble, falling back against the hood of his car with a thump. He’s over you before you have a chance to think his hips pinning yours against the hood of the Ferrari. Your breath is coming in short pants, the anger smoldering in his blue eyes doing nothing more than heating up your blood and wetting your panties.

 

“You said ‘yes’ huh?” he asks, reaching down and unbuckling his belt roughly, his finger flicking the button of his pants open deftly. “I’ll make you fucking scream it.”

 

You gasp as his mouth descends on yours, lips pressing hard, tongue sweeping in and exploring your mouth thoroughly as he rips your shorts and panties down your legs. He pushes your legs open wide and pulls back, standing to gaze down at you, legs spread and waiting, dripping on the hood of his sports car.

 

You’re panting up at him, watching him lick his lips as he pulls himself out of his boxers. You moan as he gives himself a slow stroke, letting your head fall back against the hood in frustration. You hate that you can be ready to key his car one minute and then wanting him to fuck you on the hood of it the next. He does this to you. He’s the only person that can.

 

Your head snaps up when you feel his hand on your thigh, smoothing gently before his fingers grip your skin roughly, forcing your knee up higher as he lays over you. His hands grip your wrists tightly, holding them over your head and you grit your teeth fighting against him. He is not going to hold you down.

 

He chuckles down at you, gripping both your wrists in one of his large hands, letting his other skim lasciviously down your body, working the buttons of your blouse loose, watching your breasts heave under the lace of your bra. His head dips down to nip at your neck, teeth digging in before his tongue laves the spot, soothing it. A low growl rumbles from your chest as your hips press into his, your body begging for what your mouth won’t. He pants as the skin of your thigh caresses his length, his mouth opening against your neck and he sucks hard causing you to squirm.

 

“Are you gonna be a good girl?” he asks condescendingly, reaching between you to rub the tip of his dick against your slit enticingly. He gasps slightly. “Fuck you’re wet,” he moans, fingers digging into your wrists as he presses the head of his cock against your dripping entrance, before sliding up to tease your clit.

 

A whimper tears from your throat as he rubs the smooth head against your throbbing clit and you let one of your legs wrap around his waist, trying to pull him closer. He’s chuckling at you again, rubbing against you torturously and you struggle against him, trying to get your hands free.

 

“Now, now darling,” he drawls, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. He’s such a fucking tease. It pisses you off, sets you on fire, and makes you want him so much that it hurts.

 

“God dammit, Justin,” you spat letting your head thump back against the hood of the car. “Just fucking do it.”

 

“Do what?” he asks innocently. How he can make his voice so innocent when he’s got you pinned against the hood of his fucking Ferrari and his dick pressed against your clit you’ll never know.

 

“Fuck me you asshole,” you growl and he puts a look of mock hurt on his face.

 

“Now, that’s not very nice,” he chides gently and you whine, letting your head fall to the side in frustration.

 

Your pussy is throbbing, the muscles in your stomach cramping from want and he’s so close. He’s so fucking close to being inside you and you know, you know how good it can be. You want him so bad that tears are pricking your eyes. Why were you mad at him again?

 

“You know you can’t stay mad at me, girl,” he grins, his tongue tracing lazy circles along your chest and over the top of your breasts.

 

And this sets a new fire in you, anger, volatile and potent, bursts in your chest and you’re struggling against him again, gritting your teeth and cursing him. You catch him by surprise and you almost get your hands free but he’s too quick, slamming your pinned wrists into the hood of the car painfully.

 

“Goddammit Justin that fucking hurts!” you yell thrashing underneath him and he growls at you.

 

“Well if you would stop fucking fighting me and shut the hell up!” he argues and you let out a frustrated groan, body writhing beneath him, his dick still pulsing between your legs but not inside.

 

“Don’t you talk to me that wa-”

 

Your words melt into a yelp as he shoves his entire length into you at once, your back arching off of the car, pleasure ripping through you. Your eyes close and you moan as he drags back out before slamming forcefully back in again. You hear him chuckle and you open your eyes to find him looking down at you, his eyes black with lust, a triumphant smirk on his lips, his free hand massaging your breast roughly.

 

“That shut you up, huh?” he chuckles, his hips gyrating as he thrusts and all you can do is lay back and take it, your legs trembling with pleasure.

 

“You’re such a dick,” you grit out but it’s punctuated by a moan when he slams into you just right, hitting that spot only he can find.

 

“Yeah you’re lucky I didn’t shove it in your mouth,” he grits out, his eye lids fluttering and the hand on your breast moves to brace himself against the hood of the Ferrari. “Fuck…” he moans, his head dropping to your shoulder and you fight to get your hands free.

 

“Please, Justin,” you pant into his ear, your tongue snaking out to lick around the shell. “Please let me touch you…”

 

He hums in pleasure, his hand finally releasing yours and moving to brace himself over you, thrusting powerfully into you. Your hands are everywhere all at once, wrapping around his waist to grab his ass, feeling him pound into you before, sliding around, pushing his undershirt up, your nails skittering over the bumps and grooves of his abdomen. He moans when you reach his chest, your fingers grazing his nipples, teasing him gently. You smooth your palms around his back, your hand slicking over his damp skin feeling his muscles slide over one another.

 

You thrust your hips into him, feeling the tingle in your toes and your nails dig into his skin, your head falling back as he works you just right. He’s panting, deep groans and high pitched whines pulling from his throat as he rests his forehead on your collarbone, watching himself slam in and out of you.

 

“Oh fuck baby, I’m gonna come,” he moans, gritting his teeth and you dig you bring your other leg around his waist, forcing him deeper, working your way to the edge.

 

“Justin,” you moan as his hips reach a frantic pace, letting your head hang back as he pounds into you over and over. “Just like that…Mmmm,” you pant just letting yourself feel him slide in and out of your body, reveling in the pleasure coursing through your veins.

 

“Like that?” he asks, his voice tight in his chest, his hips grinding against yours, pulling back to watch your face.

 

“Yes, Jus,” you pant, your body writhing beneath him. “YES!” you yell, your head falling back again, trying to pull air into your lungs

 

“Told you I’d have you screaming it,” he chuckles but it turns into a moan when your nails scrape down his back.

 

“Baby, please,” you beg, your muscles spasming, so close to locking down around him.

 

He growls, one hand sliding down your bodies, fingers nestling in your folds and pinching your clit. Your back arches off the hood of his car as your pussy clamps down around him repeatedly, screaming his name so loud that it hurts your throat.

 

“Oh my god Katie,” he groans his hips crashing into yours and it’s almost too much, your body weak and sensitive from your orgasm.

 

He whimpers, his face screwing up in pleasure as he thrusts into you one last time hard enough to rattle your teeth. He’s hissing and moaning as he comes violently, crushing his hips to yours, trying to push himself as deep as possible as he rides his wave. His body slumps against yours, his breath panting against your shoulder as you let your legs splay on either side of his hips. You hug him close to you as his lips smudge against your collarbone, gently kissing before pulling back to look you in the face.

 

“Damn,” he pants and you can’t help but giggle at the goofy, satisfied grin on his face.

 

He kisses you gently, his tongue dipping in to taste you sweetly and you’re lost in it, completely and utterly lost in the tenderness with which he’s touching your face. It amazes you how he can fuck the shit out of you on the hood of his car one minute and be completely loving and gentle the next. He’s the only one that can have you ready to rip his face off, then ready to fuck him, then ready to marry him all within a moment. Only him.

 

“I’m sorry I missed lunch,” he says pulling back and brushing a hand across your cheek. “I would have been there, but you know work-”

 

“-comes first. I know,” you finish for him, reaching up a hand to smooth his curls back from his forehead.

 

“I love you,” he says, kissing you quickly and deeply and you know he means it.

 

“I love you too, baby,” you whisper, nuzzling his nose with yours and he sighs. He begins to chuckle softly, his chest rumbling with the sound. “What?” you ask giggling slightly.

 

“We had sex on the hood of my Ferrari,” he giggles and you throw your head back laughing.

 

“That we did,” you say, your hands digging into his curls and he grins down at you.

 

“You know what we should do now?” he asks and you grin, your fingers massaging his scalp, enjoying the way his eyelids flutter.

 

“What?”

 

“Well, we’ve had sex on this car…” he trails looking down the driveway and you follow his gaze, your eyes moving, from one Escalade to the next, then the Rubicon, the Porsche, the BMW, and last the Mercedes.

You swallow hard looking up into his blue eyes that are dancing mischievously. It’s going to be a long afternoon.