But that was where I miscalculated.
One minute he was sitting there like a car before a race, engine rumbling, my foot on the gas and my hands on the wheel. The next he surged beneath me as if the flag had dropped.
With effortless strength, he pushed me back, holding me as he somehow stripped my trousers off, taking my underwear with them. I thought he was going to put me on my back and I opened my mouth to protest, wanting to stay in his lap, but before I could say a word he settled me back where I was, my thighs spread over him, the denim of his jeans rubbing against my tender skin.
Panting, I stared at him, for a second unable to move.
His blue eyes met mine with so much ferocity I couldn’t breathe, and he didn’t look away as he reached behind him, shifting to get something out of his pocket. His wallet. Then he took a small foil packet out of it. A condom.
‘Still with me?’ he demanded as he ripped open the packet, his gaze searching.
‘Yes.’ My voice was little more than a croak. ‘Can I...?’ I reached for the condom, wanting to put it on him, touch him, feel the rock-hard length of him for myself.
‘Hell, no.’ He ignored my hands. ‘Not this time.’
And I didn’t have time to be disappointed, because he’d rolled down the condom and lifted me before I could protest, setting me back down, something long and hard and thick easing into me.
I gasped as he put his hands on my hips, pushing me down at the same time as he thrust up, impaling me.
The pleasure was almost agonising and I cried out, overwhelmed by an intense feeling of fullness, as if he were taking up all the air in my body and there were no room for me.
I shuddered, the unexpected sensation making me feel strangely panicky, my eyes prickling again.
But he must have sensed my distress, because his hands were stroking down my back, soothing me. ‘Easy,’ he murmured. ‘Take it slow.’
His blue gaze was a lifeline I could hold on to and I did, staring back, my hands on his shoulders, shivering as he began to move, surging up into me, his fingers shifting to my hips and moving me with him, showing me the way to go.
The panicky feeling receded, leaving me with the same breathless hunger I’d felt before and a pleasure that pushed at my boundaries, making me gasp and shake.
He kept moving, thrusting up into me, hard and deep, pulling away from me, like those big cars. Taking control.
And I let myself go, let myself feel the speed, moving with him faster and faster, the power of his hot, hard body pushing into mine, taking me with him, a race to the finish.
I could have raced for ever.
But then he took my hand and brought it down between us, putting my fingers against my own wet flesh and holding them down as he thrust, deeper, harder.
Then there was lightning behind my eyes, an explosion of heat inside me, petrol igniting and pleasure cascading through my body. So much pleasure...
I opened my mouth to scream but he covered it with his own, drinking down my release as he moved, faster and out of control, chasing his own ending.
Afterwards there was nothing but silence, the car full of the desperate sounds of our breathing. I couldn’t move, my body heavy and sated, happy to rest against his strength and immense heat.
Then the aftershocks of the orgasm began to recede and I began to feel cold and shaky. And somehow he must’ve sensed it, because he slid his hands from my hips and up my back, then down again, stroking me slowly, lightly, like a cat.
My family wasn’t physical. A back slap here, a handshake there, and that was it. We didn’t hug. Dad wasn’t much for displays of affection. And since my mother had died, no one had ever touched me like this, gently, as if I needed soothing or comfort.
Again, I was horrified by the prickling of yet more tears, my throat getting tight and my chest sore as another weird emotional tide rushed in where the pleasure had been not moments before.
I didn’t understand it. I’d never cried the few times I’d had sex. It had been nice, sure, but afterwards I’d only felt a bit awkward. Certainly not...whatever this was.
Maybe it was a girl thing. Either way, I did not want it, especially not in front of Mr Evans.
Moving quickly, I pushed myself away, wriggling out of his grip before he could stop me.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Where are you going?’
I kept my face turned away as I frantically grabbed my trousers and underwear, inelegantly shifting around on the back seat as I pulled them back on again. ‘Uh...gotta get back. You know, things to do.’