Good news: Crispin arrived promptly at five without landing a helicopter or space shuttle or any other aerial transport on the roof of my building.

Bad news: He came in something even more ostentatious—a black stretch limo about the length of Dolce and Gabbana's runway at Paris Fashion Week.

Usually, I refer to grandiose cars as "mobile compensation units," but in Crispin's case, I saw that bulge in his sweatpants and must admit, unless he stuffed Bigfoot's sock into his crotch, the guy does not need to compensate for anything. Just the thought of Crispin's bulge makes my tongue loll like an overheated dog's.

I sashay down the sidewalk, my new Chanel dress fluttering seductively in the breeze, making my way toward Crispin's shiny black limo. The street buzzes with end-of-semester excitement and chaos—students with suitcases on lawns trying (and failing) to disguise hangovers from anxious parents; cars double-parked with their trunks hanging open like hungry maws; recycling cans overflowing with beer bottles and pizza boxes—remnants of parties past.

The limo is double-parked in front of a frat house with its engine purring. (The limo, not the frat house. Frat houses only purr during their annual 'Sexy Kittens and Cocky Cats' block party.)  As I approach, a group of frat boys whoops and hollers, and a few bros visibly drool. I did not know frat boys loved Chanel as much as I do!

The limo door swings open as I approach, held open by a bespoke-suited arm. "Hey," I say brightly, excited about my first limo ride.

"Good afternoon, Miss Jones. I appreciate your promptness," comes Crispin's baritone. He scoots over to the opposite side of the car, allowing me space on the slick leather bench seat. I slide in and pull hard on the door handle. It seals us in with a heavy thud.

The privacy screen is up, which means I'm alone in a hermetically sealed space with the hottest billionaire alive! His "Eau de Crispin - long walks on the beach under a full moon" scent wafts over me, encompasses me. I breathe in long deep breaths. Do not pant. Do not pant, I remind myself. My Chanel dress has hiked up, exposing a long expanse of bare thigh. Hmmm. I should've applied self-tanner because the glowy paleness is practically blinding.

My internal goddess does a cartwheel displaying a pair of super tan legs. This isn't a competition! I remind her.

She replies by sticking out her tongue. So mature! My goddess then flips me the bird.

Some goddesses are so low rent.

"Miss Jones. Miss Jones. Earth to Miss Jones," Crispin shouts in my ear.

"There's no need to yell," I say, wriggling on the seat as I attempt to pull down the hem of my dress.

"You weren't responding. I had to make sure you were conscious this time, unlike last night."

My face heats despite the blast of air conditioning, and I pretend to search for the seat belt to cover my embarrassment. I'm going to have to have words with my internal goddess later about her continual distractions and blatant cries for attention. "Wow, throwing that minor transgression in my face right away is not very gentlemanly," I snap.

"No one has ever accused me of being a gentleman."

Why does this make my insides quiver and melt like a warm crème caramel? I clear the lump in my throat. "Even though you're a member of a secret gentleman's club?"

Crispin smirks as if I've fallen into a trap of some kind. Bear, mouse, or fly, I'm not sure. "About that. I see you are a hard one to restrain with ropes and have a bad habit of becoming unconscious when you're about to be interrogated. But I have a new plan to get you to talk." He takes my hand and runs his perfectly manicured fingernails from the tip of my middle finger to my wrist, the touch sparking a fiery lust within my loins. After my broken date with Buzz earlier, I can barely control my ... um ... animal urges.

Ani to brain. Ani to brain. Abort. Abort. He wants to question you, not fuck you.

"I'm going to fuck you," he purrs.

Before I know it, he's pulled me onto his lap, his lips locked with mine, his magical tongue begging for entry into my mouth. I yield immediately, my tongue dancing with his. It's as if both of us would go insane if we'd had to wait for another second to possess one another's mouths. The car slides into traffic as I slide over the prominent bulge in his crotch. Mmmmmmmm!

We're driving through the streets of Berkeley while kissing each other into oblivion. Why does everyone make such a big deal about the Mile High Club, when the Sea Level Club is so much safer? And speaking of safe, should we be in seat belts?

My tongue explores his mouth, his lips, his teeth, his ... Wait ... What is that? I (carefully) run my tongue over a tooth, as sharp and pointy as a dog's canine. Further inspection reveals Crispin has four of them, two on the top; two on the bottom. He pulls away, suspending my investigation. But before I can complain, Crispin takes my bottom lip in his mouth and sucks, eliminating all rational thought.

What was I thinking about?

Who cares?

The sensation of his luscious lips sucking mine reminds me how much I want to suck him, but not his face. Ever since I met Crispin, I've wanted his manly assets in my mouth. Not those manly assets! His bank account isn't the only large, attractive part of him! Get your mind into the gutter! 

I nibble on his lower lip, then take it into my mouth, sucking hard, demonstrating what an Ani blowjob might include.

A sort of blowjob sample pack.

Crispin's hands glide over my back, making me moan. My skin is on fire, and now I do not care for my new Chanel dress anymore. I beg him with my eyes to rip it from my body, but for once he doesn't pick up the signal.

Which might be good. I mean, the dress had to cost a small fortune and the shredding of expensive clothing is something that ought to be confined to the world of erotic fiction. Not reality.

Instead, I hike it up and grind into his lap. A few more strokes, and I'll get off. That's all it will take. I'm breathing rapidly; my heart beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings. I'm sooooo close 

...

Crispin circles his powerful arms around my waist, lifts me from his lap, and sets me on the seat just as we're rounding a corner. Nooooo! I slide toward the opposite window, my legs and arms akimbo, all possibility of an orgasm abating. Maybe the seat belt would've been smart.

"Why'd you do that?" I sputter.

"You were about to come," he says, matter-of-factly.

"Exactly," I say, gritting my teeth. Is Crispin dense? Must I explain how car sex works? I sigh. "Crispin, when a man and a woman are alone in a limo, and they're very, very attracted to one another, they share a special hug."

"Are you explaining car sex to me?"

"I don't want to, but obviously you're not getting it."

He quirks his luscious lips into a devastatingly handsome smile. "I think I am getting it," he says, catching my left wrist and pulling me toward him. Then he attaches his mouth to mine as he lays me back on the seat, never breaking the kiss. He lies on top of me, pinning me to the seat with his pelvis. I arch against him, longing for maximum contact with the hard length of his cock.

Crispin hisses. "What are you doing to me?"

I breathe out in frustration. "I thought you didn't want me to explain."

"Not the fundamentals of car sex. I mean, why am I so attracted to you? Your scent. Your laugh. Your insane internal commentary."

"Excuse me? My internal commentary? You don't know about my secret goddess, do you?"

"See? No one I know talks to me like that. And the way we fit together, it's almost like you're... But that can't be."

"What are you talking about?"

"Never mind. Now, where was I?" He returns to the kissing part, only this time, something is different. More intense. Hotter, if that's even possible. Reaching down, he yanks off my Hanky Panky lace thong with a rip and casts it onto the floor. His fingers find my cleft and massage me in long, teasing strokes. A little more pressure and I'll have an orgasm that will shatter me into a thousand pieces. I push against his fingers, but he responds by lessening the pressure.

"Harder!" I'm begging.

He removes his hand and grips my hair. "First, tell me what I want to know," he whispers in my ear, sending a thrill of sensation down my neck.

"Anything," I say. "Whatever you want to know. Just get me off!" The limo rolls onto the Bay Bridge as we head toward San Francisco.

"How do you know about the Secret Gentleman's Club? Who are you working for? The mosquitoes? The fish? The snakes?"

I am in such a sexual fog that I think he asked me if I worked for mosquitoes, fish, or snakes. "I only work for you Crispin."

"Tell me!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not a fucking spy. I'm a veterinary student." I reach down between us, struggling to get to my clit. It won't take more than a single flick to get me off.

"That's not part of the plan," he says, grabbing my hand, keeping me from my goal.

"Aaaaarrrggggh," I cry out. "You're evil."

"I may be. But I did have a secret traumatic past."

"Of course you did. What kind of hot billionaire hasn't?"

"I also play the piano."

"Like I said. Cliché. I assume you're also emotionally unavailable and uber-possessive?"

"Yep."

"But none of that matters right now. I promise you; I don't work for anyone but you. Now, can I please have an orgasm, sir?"

He exhales, which I think is an indication of his surrender. Then he unzips his pants, withdraws the most gorgeous hugest, thickest penis I've ever seen. In a split second, he has a condom rolled on, and in one swift stroke, enters me. Luckily, I'm wetter than the San Francisco Bay. I take all of him, sucking in the heated length of his beautiful cock. The orgasm comes so fast and hard that I shatter into not a thousand pieces but a million. Maybe even two million. I'm screaming his name, "Crispin!!!!!"

The limo swerves hard. I scream again (this time not in ecstasy) as the brakes screech, and we Tokyo drift toward the railing, about to plunge hundreds of feet into the Bay. Why didn't Crispin just pick me up in the helicopter? is my last thought before, you guessed it, everything goes black.

***

There you go! Finally, Ani and Crispin have sex! You're welcome! I had so much fun writing this chapter. Hope you enjoyed it too. Thank you for reading, commenting, liking, and just being plain awesome.