𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬
Rusty x fem!reader (Ocean's Eleven, 2001)
18+ smut | word count: 6k
When she's close... and you've got her on your tongue... always, always—
Summary: Rusty approaches you at your bartending job and asks you to help him play a prank on his friend. All goes well until Rusty’s prank involves an unfinished sentence, and it leaves you with questions. Luckily, Rusty answers in the form of action.
Warnings: Cunnilingus; car sex; hooking up; maybe niche bar humor… idk I could be projecting; Rusty is very eager to please; reader has worked a 12 hour shift and Rusty is very much into eating her out after that so uhhhh if that’s not your thing, you know what to do; mdni!
Author's note: My first fic! Long time coming, and I have lots more to share. Check out my explanation of the above power scale here if you’re curious!
You reeked of fresh lime, spilt tequila, and a long, never-ending bar shift full of WASPy laughter and fleeting glances. Eye contact was apparently a privilege, and these country-cub quests were too upper-class to even think about lowering their gaze to meet your line of sight.
You’d just locked down this new bartending gig and you were already phoning it in. There were only so many stock exchange tips you could smile through while nursing an empty tip jar, and only so much disrespect you could choke down without daydreaming about spontaneous, rich people choking incidents. It’s almost as if the guests thought you were subjecting yourself to being underpaid and undervalued for the mere chance at receiving unsolicited advice and unwelcome sexual harassment.
But tonight, things were about to get lucrative—and interesting.
You spotted interesting like a beacon of hope in a never ending crowd of polos and wrinkled khakis. Handsome didn’t do this man justice; he was stunning. Dirty blond hair… slim frame… a jaw sharp enough to cut through the bar’s endless supply of lemons and a well-fitting suit that put every other guests’ attire to shame. He stepped out of a vintage convertible, walked onto the premises with a cool confidence that made half of the room turn their heads, and strutted his way straight toward you.
Well, straight to the bar. But… same difference.
The bar had been in a lull for the past hour and you were pretending to busy yourself by polishing glasses and wiping down the same work station over and over again. Mister Interesting took a seat in the stool right in front of you, peeling off his sunglasses and making it a point to meet your eyes with his own brilliant, bright blue.
“Hi,” he said, sending you a lopsided smile as he rested his elbows on the granite bar top. It was the conversation starting kind of ‘hi,’ full of expectation and innocent suspense, which was a far cry from the obligatory nicety you rarely received before being bombarded with a drink order.
“Hey,” you said in surprise, not used to being seen. “What can I do for you?”
The man leaned forward and drummed his fingers on the counter, exposing a hand tattoo that disappeared underneath the breezy cuffs of his sleeves. “I’m glad you asked,” he said smoothly, lips quirking up farther when you lifted an eyebrow in return. “I’ve got a friend coming in soon. Haven’t seen him in a while so I’d like to mess with him.”
“And you want my help,” you said slowly, beating him to the punch.
The man nodded, eyes lighting up with something you couldn’t place. “I’d love your help,” he affirmed.
You looked around the empty bar and pretended to think it over. “If you hadn’t noticed,” you said with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “I’m pretty busy. But I guess I can make an exception.”
The man offered you his hand across the table with an amused huff, and you shook it with a giddiness you couldn’t feign.
“Here’s the plan,” he said as he leaned back into his seat. He crossed one leg over the other and slung his arm over the back of his chair. “All I need you to do is interrupt me. I’ll give you a signal, and then I’ll give you a cue.”
You pursed your lips. “Interrupt you how?”
“Surprise me,” he said, smirking and shrugging. “When I raise and swirl my drink like this—” he pretended to hold a glass by his ear and gave his wrist a spin “—that’s your prompt to wait for your cue. It’ll be around 8:30.”
You nodded. “And the cue?”
“Interrupt me when I say ‘always, always.’”
“Got it,” you said. And maybe it was the boredom of a long shift, or the curiosity surrounding an attractive man, but you couldn’t help but ask, “how many times have you done this?”
He looked at you for a moment—really looked at you. His eyes sized up your strength as if the answer could make you collapse. Then, he leaned in close with a mischievous grin. “This? Too many times to count,” he said lowly. “To this friend of mine? Only twice.”
You leaned in too. Your proximity to his cool made you forget you were a citrusy mess in a frumpy uniform. “What’s tonight’s occasion?”
The man shook his head, smiling at an inside joke between him and himself. “The kid managed to find himself a girl.”
“Out of his league, then,” you guessed.
“Big time,” he said, tilting his head as he studied you all over again. “You catch on quick.”
“Comes with the territory,” you said, gesturing to the bar top.
He shook his head again—small but firm. “You’d be surprised.”
You bit your lip at the compliment and tried to school your expression back into its soulless customer service mode. But the man had already seen right through you, and his eyes were making a conscious decision to settle on your lips.
“Tell me,” He said as his gaze flitted up to meet yours again. “What am I drinking tonight?”
This time it was your gaze that wavered. You let your eyes drop and scanned him in all the same ways he’d been casing you all evening. He was classy with an edge—unhurried and deliberate with every move he made. Someone like that liked to sip their spirits, and they liked to sip them slow.
“Whiskey neat,” you said confidently. “James Bond? Or Frank Sinatra?”
He blinked at you in slow awe. “Sinatra,” he said, humming in approval as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He thumbed through his assets before sliding a card across the bar with ease. “And keep ‘em coming.”
You took the card and spun around, turning your back to him as you logged into your register. You thought you were being discreet when you flipped the stainless steel over to get a peek at his name but—
“Rusty,” he called, causing you to still. Smugness was evident in his tone. “I go by Rusty.”
You took one look at his full legal name before turning back around to face him with a grin. “Suits you better.”
The bar had grown busy. Polos morphed into blazers branded with Alma maters, nightfall brought in a new crowd of trust-funded offspring, and Rusty remained a breath of fresh air in a sea of rich trash.
You loved catching him in the corner of your eye.
He was a vicarious relief in the face of your forced composure, and a sympathetic witness to every soul-crushing guest interaction this evening.
Rusty would meet your gaze whenever someone said something crass. He’d chuckle into his hand whenever someone said something dumb, and he’d narrow his eyes at every inappropriate quip thrown your way. Every secret smile shared between the two of you was like doing a shot of Espolón—it warmed you from the inside out and left you buzzing like an alarm.
“He’s married,” Rusty insisted, nodding subtly toward the burly man who’d just commented on the size of your tits at the end of the bar.
You turned your head—
“Don’t look,” Rusty said, shaking his head. “You won’t find a ring. He’s smart enough not to wear the ring—which isn’t saying much—but he wasn’t smart enough to take his wife’s photo out of his wallet.”
“How did you even see that?” You asked, blinking in surprise.
“Life’s all about the details, sweetheart,” he said smoothly.
He was too charming and too handsome; too witty, and too debilitating. You forgot yourself every time you locked eyes.
So when Rusty’s friend finally arrived, you couldn’t hide your visible disappointment.
You no longer had him all to yourself.
“Rusty!”
The brown-haired man who called his name was closer in age to Rusty than you expected. He hustled over to the bar in a hurry, far less calm and collected than his counterpart.
“You have no idea how glad I am to see you,” he said as he stopped in his tracks, pausing just to look Rusty up and down “Oh. You look great!”
“And you look late,” Rusty replied, unimpressed. His smile melted away as he transformed into a stern mentor right before your eyes, but he still shot you a knowing glance. “Before we manage time—”
“‘—we can manage nothing else.’ I know,” the new arrival said, lowering his head before pulling out his chair and taking a seat. “I know. But I’ve been better lately! I swear, whenever you and Danny are around, it’s like the universe conspires to make me look bad.”
“You don’t look bad,” Rusty admitted, nodding at his attire approvingly. “Just immature and irresponsible.”
The man stared at him, unblinking, before turning to look at you. “Do you see this? Do you see how he treats me?”
You startled at the direct address. Leave it to one of Rusty’s friends to be the only other person to make you feel human all day.
“Well,” you said sheepishly. “You were late.”
He raised his hands in defeat. “What is this, everybody pick on Linus day? Do you always have to find somebody to gang up on me with?”
Damn… poor guy didn’t even know the half of it.
You sent a glance toward Rusty, who immediately turned away from you with barely contained composure.
“Any particular reason for why you had to get me here face-to-face?” Rusty asked before pointedly checking his watch.
“You have to promise not to laugh at me,” ‘Linus’ prefaced, pointing at him. “And you have to buy me a drink first.”
“Fine,” Rusty said, sighing. “Give the pretty lady your order.” And he gestured to you with a wink.
Your face heated up at the words as you eyed Linus expectantly.
“Actually, wait,” Rusty said, holding his hand out in front of Linus. His smirk grew as he looked at you. “She has a thing.”
“A thing?” Linus asked.
You shrugged as you looked him over the same way you’d assessed Rusty. Linus was all boyish charm and steadfast naivety. He didn’t have the same style and confidence as Rusty, but he looked put together and ready to evolve.
“It’s when I tell you that your drink of choice is a rum and coke,” you said carefully. It’s the drink he probably tried once at a college party and hadn’t betrayed since. “But you’ve outgrown Bacardi or Captain, so you try a new rum every time you order one.”
Linus’s eyes widened in surprise. He turned to Rusty with parted lips. “Did she just?”
“Uh-huh,” Rusty said proudly. He leaned his elbow on the bar and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. Awe wouldn’t leave his eyes as he looked at you.
“Jack Daniels,” you said, grinning as you tapped on the counter in front of Rusty. Your smile morphed into something less weighted as you turned back to Linus. “And a Flora de Caña Coke.”
“Can you make that a double?” Linus asked with a hopeful wince.
Rusty raised an eyebrow at Linus. “You in trouble or something?”
Linus snorted. “Not yet.”
You checked on a few other guests before starting on the drinks, and came back to Rusty and Linus with their orders. Linus took a heavy gulp out of his glass as soon as you set it down.
“Oh,” he said, holding out his drink to stare at it. “This is really good.”
Rusty raised his own glass to his lips and stared at you from above the rim. He took a long sip. “She is,” he said.
But before you could address his comment, a new wave of rowdy men walked over to the bar. “Duty calls,” you said, grimacing.
“Break a leg?” Linus offered, earning a disapproving head shake from Rusty.
You walked over to the impatient fingers drumming on the other end of the bar top, still listening closely:
“Alright kid, spit it out,” is all you heard before the sound of Rusty’s voice got drowned out by talks of ski trips and boat purchases.
You barely greeted the next guest before you heard Rusty break out into a loud, childish giggle that was anything but cool.
Somehow, that made him even cooler.
The signal came at 8:27pm.
You excused yourself from the new group of assholes who’d taken turns making not-so-subtle jokes at your expense, and settled into a spot near Rusty and Linus.
The two were huddled closely and Linus’s gaze was intense. You tried your best to make out the conversation without getting too close and blowing your cover.
“You go too slow and she might lose focus,” Rusty explained in a low mumble, talking with his free hand. “You go too fast and you might lose her completely. It’s all about consistency and tempo.”
“But what if she—”
“That never means what you think it should,” Rusty said, cutting him off. “If she’s receptive to what you’re already doing, don’t change a damn thing.”
Linus nodded once. Then he nodded again. “What about my hands?”
“What about them?”
“Where do they go?” He asked in a hushed whisper.
Rusty looked like he was about to laugh all over again. “What do you usually do with them?”
“Don’t be a dick,” Linus whined.
“You’re telling me that you don’t know how she likes to be—“
“I do,” Linus gritted in between his teeth. “But this angle is new.”
Rusty sighed. “They go where she wants you: where she trembles, where she sucks you in, and where she aches.”
The topic of discussion almost made you drop a martini glass.
Luckily, Linus was too occupied with his own embarrassment to notice. His entire face burned bright red. “That was a bit much,” he said weakly.
“Unbelievable…” Rusty mumbled, huffing as he pressed his drink up against his temple. “Did you want my help or not?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Linus said hurriedly. “Anything else?”
Rusty sent you a glance so subtle, you would’ve missed it in a blink. It was all the confirmation you needed that your cue was coming.
“When she’s close…” he said to Linus, leaning in closer.
“Yeah?”
“And you’ve got her on your tongue…”
“Yeah?” Linus said shyly.
“Always, always—”
“Sorry to interrupt,” you cut in, sending Linus a sympathetic smile as you leaned across the bar to get ahead of the noise. You turned to Rusty with as much seriousness as you could muster. “Are you the owner of a 1963 Ford Falcon Futara?”
Rusty’s eyes lit up with genuine surprise. “Uh-huh,” he said, which was far more flirtatious than concerned.
“The valet office is urgently requesting your presence,” you said, pointing in the direction toward the offices and studies.
Rusty stood up. Linus reached for his sleeve.
“Oh, c’mon,” Linus pleaded. “You can’t leave me hanging like this. Not now—not again.”
Rusty gestured to you with his hand. “It’s urgent,” he said.
“But—
The clock hanging above the bar chimed twice to signal the half hour.
“Shit,” Linus cussed underneath his breath.
Rusty patted him on the shoulder. “Tell me how it went tomorrow. I’ll still be in town,” he said as he pushed his chair in.
Linus watched him with a solemn nod.
“To the left?” Rusty asked you, gesturing toward the offices with his thumb.
You nodded, Rusty left, and Linus groaned.
“I’ve gotta head out too,” Linus said with a sigh. “Dinner with my girlfriend’s parents.”
“Break a leg?” you offered.
Linus snorted as he pulled out his wallet. “For you,” he said, sliding a $50 bill across the bar. “Thanks for the rec.”
You took the tip with a guilty smile. You almost wanted to give it back, but Linus was off with a wave and a nervous grin before you could even say a word.
Thankfully, the bar’s patrons dwindled in Rusty’s absence. With only a handful of customers left to serve and a 12 hour shift on its last legs, you had nothing better to do than replay your interactions over with Rusty in your head.
If you didn’t still have Rusty’s credit card, you might've assumed that this whole night had been a figment of your imagination. Big tippers? Hot, funny guys? A man that sipped his drink like he’d rather be sipping you?
It was a far-fetched fever dream.
So when you finally spotted Rusty’s leisurely stroll back toward the bar, you let out a sigh of relief. Thirty minutes without him and the bar had managed to make you forget you were a person again.
“Before you lump me in with all the other guys that have been harassing you all night,” Rusty said as he sat back down. “I didn’t know my conversation would stray that far left.”
“So he doesn’t usually ask you for sex advice?” You asked with a smile you couldn’t hide.
Rusty shook his head in slow disbelief. “No, just on everything else.”
“I would say he’s lucky to have you but…” you said, wincing.
“But I did just convince you to mess with him for me,” Rusty said, eyeing you sheepishly. “If it helps, he always pulls through. Kid’s great under pressure.”
You pretended to think it over, tilting your head from side to side. “It helps a little,” you said half-heartedly.
“What if I told you I spent the last half hour making phone calls and cancelling plans so that I could catch up with him tomorrow?” He asked, grinning at your theatrics. “Does that help?”
“It does,” you said. “And It’s cute,” you added, before you could stop yourself.
Rusty’s smile grew. “I’ll take cute.”
A comfortable silence settled between you two, and neither of you moved to break it. Even the chatter of the guests faded into the background as you eyed each other across the bar, gazes slow and curious.
You were getting used to Rusty’s attention now. The heat of his stare, the devotion that simmered beneath his words, and the safety of his presence. He wasn’t the first charming man to catch your eye on the job, but he was the most interesting—and the most genuine.
And then there was the matter of his advice. The advice that made your eyes flicker between his strong hands and his full lips.
They go where she wants you: where she trembles, where she sucks you in, and where she aches.
What else had he been about to say?
You bit your lip at the thought.
“Something on your mind?” Rusty asked. But his eyes flickered with something darker—something knowing and desperate.
You could ask him…
“I was wondering,” you said quietly, more quiet than you’d been all night.
Rusty lifted an eyebrow as he leaned in closer. But the bar was still a bar, and it separated you two like a clear dividing line.
This was a job—a job with rules you had to follow, which meant that acting on sexual tension with handsome guests was a huge violation.
You released a working-class sigh and lowered your eyes to look down at the bar counter. “If you wanted another drink?”
Rusty didn’t say anything at first.
Then he hummed.
“I should close out,” he said as he tapped on the counter.
You looked up at him, hoping you were doing a decent job at concealing your disappointment.
“Need to find a hotel for the night,” Rusty further explained. He met your eyes with a reassuring smile, still holding his share of the chemistry between you two, and it almost made his words sound like an invitation.
You hoped it was.
“Got it,” you said quickly, turning away to ring up his bill and think through logistics. You’d be fine as long as no one saw you leave with him. Meeting up with a man you’d just met at his hotel room wasn’t the most romantic experience you’ve ever had but—
“After dinner,” Rusty called after you, as if he could read your mind. “I’d get dinner first.”
You chuckled as you rang him up. Then, you returned to him with his credit card, a pen, and two receipts.
Rusty’s fingers brushed up against yours as he reached for the pen. He didn’t bother to hide his smirk about it, maintaining eye contact as he scribbled his signature onto the paper.
“Got something for you,” he said before pulling out his wallet. He retrieved a $100 bill and dropped it on top of the receipt, shaking his head sternly once your eyes widened in surprise.
“But—”
“You did a job for me. The bit about the car was genius, by the way,” Rusty said with a twinkle in his eye. “You earned it.”
You looked between the money and Rusty, not saying a word.
“And it has nothing to do with my pending dinner plans,” he said pointedly. “The money was always on the table. You accepted the job before I could offer it up.”
You blinked. “So I just suck at negotiating?”
A smile played at Rusty’s lips as he shrugged. “It’s cute.”
Your face heated up at the words, and a goofy smile toyed at your lips. Rusty could be yours for the night. Just one confirmation, and you could be chest to chest; skin to skin.
“Last question,” you said before biting your lip.
Rusty’s eyes fell to the movement. “The one from before?” He asked as if caught in a trance.
You nodded, and his eyes struggled to meet yours again.
“What were you going to tell Linus before I interrupted you?” You asked shyly. “Always, always…”
Rusty’s lips quirked up into a half-smile, amused and confident. He stared at you before tilting his head with a small shrug. “I could show you,” he said smoothly.
You gripped onto the counter as the words registered, lips parting at the proposition.
But Rusty only continued to grin at you, smiling as if he hadn’t just interrupted the careful dance you’d both been doing around your shared attraction all night.
“Are you sure?” You blurted out, gesturing to your stuffy uniform. Freshening up for sex was one thing. Freshening up for what he had in store was another. “I’ve been on my feet all day and I smell like Cadillac Margaritas.”
Rusty shook his head. “You’ve yet to name a con, sweetheart.”
Your heart raced with desperate anticipation. “But—”
“No more negotiating,” Rusty said, stern but sweet. “Tell me what you want, and make me work for it.”
You stared at him with a combination of shock and lust before standing tall in your decision. “I want you to show me,” you confirmed. The words came out shaky, but firm.
Rusty stood up. And with the new leverage, he leaned across the bar to hover over your ear. “Atta-girl,” he said lowly.
The heat of his breath sent a shiver down your spine.
He backed away as quickly as he’d made the move, and tapped on the receipt before sliding it over to you. Then he was off with a wave and a cheeky grin.
You waited until he turned the corner to look down at the customer copy of the receipt, and grinned at the neat handwriting.
Meet me at Delilah’s diner
Text when you leave
You arrived at Delilah’s diner after a prolonged shift changeover, a fight with a bathroom sink, and a change of clothes. The sundress hidden in the back of your work locker had been waiting for this moment, and tonight its dreams were finally coming true.
Your heart skipped a beat when you spotted Rusty near the back of the parking lot, half-seated on the back of his Ford like a man watching ships roll in from the dock. His face lit up at the sight of you pulling in next to him. You barely turned off your engine before he was opening your door and offering his hand to help you step out.
“Glad you could make it,” he said, squeezing your hand as you stepped both feet onto solid ground.
You could only stare up at him as a new wave of excitement washed over you. Nothing was keeping you apart anymore. Nothing was keeping you from this gorgeous view of him—tall and sturdy and gentle.
“Well I had to see the Falcon Futara,” you said, already stepping closer to his vehicle as he shut your door. The body was chipped and could use a good cleaning, but you liked seeing vintage cars well-loved.
Rusty dropped your hand in favor of leaning against his passenger side door. He crossed his arms over his chest as he grinned at you. “You were eyeing me when I walked in,” he said.
“Everyone was,” you said, waving him off. “You have that effect.”
You leaned forward and cupped your hands on the window to peek in. The interior was more well kept than the outside. Pristine, aquamarine seats gleamed in the few streetlights overhead.
“You do too,” he said easily. “Wit… charm… a good sense of humor… that unteachable thing that draws people in… You just have to own it.”
You shifted your gaze to him and found nothing but earnestness in his eyes. He looked back at you as if his words were obvious, as if they were less of a line to get you to undress and more of an objective truth that couldn’t be disputed.
Somehow, out of all the things he’d said that evening, this was the one that tipped you over the edge. You weren’t going to get through dinner if he kept talking like that.
Rusty raised an eyebrow at your silence, but he didn’t press. “Hungry?” He asked instead.
You stepped closer, leaning into his personal space without the bar as a barrier—or any of the other excuses you would’ve given yourself to avoid going after what you wanted.
“I could eat,” you said, flickering your gaze between his eyes and the fullness of his lips. “What about you?”
Rusty grinned, nodding soft and slow. He snuck a hand around your waist and pulled you in closer. “Starving,” he mumbled before closing the gap between you and finally pressing his lips against yours.
You gasped against him, melting into his embrace as your lips sparked with connection. Rusty reciprocated with a delighted hum before cupping your cheek and controlling the pace.
He moved sensual and patient like a decadent waltz that left you reeling with every twist and turn. You met him with every brush of his tongue and every hungry press forward; every tilt of his head and every catch of his breath. He tasted like lightning and he felt like thunder. Your body burned underneath his touch, and your heart trembled with the weight of your chemistry.
You needed more. Here. Now.
“Rusty,” you said breathlessly, raising your hand to his chest as you pulled away. “How badly do you care about the condition of your seats?”
Rusty shook his head as his thumb rubbed circles over your waist. “Not as badly as I want this.”
So the decision was made.
Rusty opened the passenger side door and craned the seat back; you crawled into the backseat and he followed.
But you couldn’t contain your laughter when he bumped his head on the roof in the process.
“Get your laughs in now,” he said, glaring at you playfully.
“It’s cute,” you promised as you wrapped your arms around his neck.
Rusty wasted no time sliding you into his lap, hitching up the thin fabric of your dress in the process. “You and that word,” he mumbled before connecting your lips together all over again.
This kiss was more desperate.
One hand gripped your waist and the other gripped your thigh. Rusty’s passion made your legs spread and your hips rock. You couldn’t help but squirm—couldn’t help but whimper.
“That’s it,” Rusty said against you, grinding up to meet your desperate movements.
The feeling of his arousal made you buzz. There was only the warmth of his tongue, the heat of his words, and the pleasure of his touch. One kiss, and you were already seconds away from melting.
Rusty’s hand slid up your thigh, bunching up the fabric of your dress further as his hand dipped underneath. Another gasp spilled out of you, needy and urgent.
“Love those sounds you make,” Rusty said, humming as he pulled away to press his lips against your neck.
You whined, lolling your head to the side.
“Here,” Rusty said like he was marking a spot. His lips and nose tickled against your neck as they grazed across the sensitive skin, breath cool and hot all at once.
You pulled him closer, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “There,” you confirmed.
Rusty moved upwards, pressing kisses along your jaw until he hit the jackpot.
“Here,” he hummed as he hovered over your ear.
One kiss behind your earlobe had you seeing stars.
Rusty’s resounding chuckles dulled in comparison to the sound of your racing heart, and the feeling of your pulsing arousal.
“Where else?” He asked next, as if his fingers hadn’t been inching closer to where you needed him most.
You struggled to focus your eyes on him, but he looked just as gone as you did. He stared back at you with red-bitten lips and dilated pupils. He stared back at you like it pained him more to show this much restraint.
“Show me,” he teased lowly, pinching your waist with his other hand.
You reached for the hand on your thigh with a shy grin and pressed it against the cotton of your underwear. The feeling of his fingers made you throb against him, and the awareness of your wet arousal made you ache.
“Now why didn’t I think of that?” He asked, grinning wider when you responded with a displeased pout.
“Rusty,” you urged, rolling your hips into his hand. It gave you just enough pressure to spark a new wave of pleasure. You hissed in the face of it, riding the wave with another desperate grind.
“Cute,” he said, chuckling when you leaned down to bury your head into his shoulder. The butterflies in your gut were starting to grow vicious.
“Want you,” you mumbled, rocking forwards. “Need you.”
You felt Rusty’s breath hitch—felt him falter in the face of your transparency.
So you exploited it.
“I’ve been thinking about your tongue for the last hour and a half,” you said breathily, picking up your head to meet his gaze with lidded eyes.
Rusty’s mouth parted slightly. “Yeah?” He said weakly.
“I’ve been patient enough,” you said as you tugged at the sleeves of his jacket. “Don’t you think?”
Rusty nodded fast and leaned forward to help shrug it off. “Yes ma’am.”
The rest happened in a flash.
One moment you were upright, and the next moment you were splayed out on aquamarine seats, legs spread and dangling in the air. Your dress was left to pool around you like a cloud of abandoned restraint.
Rusty slipped between your legs to kiss your forehead, and then your lips. His hands pulled at the straps of your dress and your bra on his way down, exposing your breasts to the cool air as his lips met your neck, and then your chest.
“Gorgeous,” he mumbled against you as he pressed another kiss in between the valley of your breasts.
You shivered underneath all of his devotion. The slow trail of fingers along your side made you whine, and the gentle pinch of your budding nipples made you gasp. Rusty turned you into putty before even getting to the main course.
“I can’t wait anymore,” you said, huffing beneath him. You didn’t care how eager or desperate you sounded.
“I know, sweetheart,” he said, kissing down your stomach. His hands moved to your legs and pressed them forward, angling your hips upwards for better access. “I know.”
Deciding to put you out of your misery, Rusty finally pressed his lips where you wanted him most—and not even the barrier of cotton could dull the electricity that shot up your spine.
Rusty met your eyes as he kissed you through your underwear. The blue in his eyes turned stormy as you trembled, gasping for more.
“Can’t wait to taste you too,” he said, voice already wrecked.
You didn’t have any more words left. Squirming was the best you could do with all of your wanting.
But Rusty was done teasing you. He slid your panties off of you with hungry speed and dived back in, finally, finally pressing his skillful tongue to your wet, hot desire.
“Oh,” you moaned, tilting your head all the way back as slick warmth enveloped you. Your legs spread wider, your vision blurred, and your back arched.
Rusty took his time exploring you. His tongue slid flat and wide across all of your intricate details, narrowing down the places that made you sing.
“Rusty,” you slurred in an octave you hardly ever reached. Your head went hazy with each lick. Each time he brushed against your clit, your ears rang with bliss.
You almost didn’t know if you could handle having all of his attention there. The slow, consistent pressure of his tongue already had you twitching and throbbing, and the grounding grip of his hands on your thighs already had you undone.
Your breathy gasps and pitchy moans sounded far away, buried somewhere underneath the intensity of your pleasure. The car rocked with your hips and its windows fogged over like your barely tethered mind. All you could think about was Rusty and his tongue, and the vibrations from each of his satisfied hums as you lost yourself to bliss.
And then—
“Fuck!”
The word flew out of you without warning. But you couldn’t be bothered to think about decency, or the sound of Rusty’s resounding chuckles, because the man was sucking your clit between his lips like a lollipop.
You scrambled for something—anything for leverage. Your fingers fumbled around for a nearby seatbelt and gripped onto it for dear life.
You never doubted that Rusty knew what he was talking about, but you hadn’t expected him to be this good.
Rusty smoothed one hand up your thigh and brought the other one to your lower stomach. You whimpered at the slight pressure in your core, and moaned as he sucked you in with the rhythmic massage of his tongue.
Forget floating, you were flying.
“Rusty,” you cried out, barely holding on. Your ears began to buzz. The world faded away.
Rusty hummed against you—confirmation and permission all at once. And the sight of his smug gaze was all you needed to reach your peak.
Your eyes rolled back. Everything went silent.
And then you came crashing down—hard and fast.
You didn’t hear everything that left your mouth, but you knew it was filthy and earnest. Every nerve in your body ached with euphoria as you writhed against him, hips bucking, legs locking, and core throbbing. You were a wreck. A beautiful, blissed-out mess made from a charming, eager man.
And he wasn’t done with you.
Your moans of pleasure turned into achy whimpers as Rusty lapped up the aftermath of your orgasm.
“Ready?” He asked, only pulling away enough to speak.
Your arms shook as you tried to prop yourself up, eyeing him with wide disbelief.
“You wanted me to show you,” he said pointedly, lifting his head up to smirk at you. Hunger still danced in his eyes.
“But…” you said, furrowing his eyebrows. Your mind was still rebooting. “What?”
Rusty smoothed his hands down your legs as he grinned. “When she’s close… and you’ve got her on your tongue… always, always be prepared to take her there… All. Over. Again.”
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 | 𝐃𝐕𝐃 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲