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Welcome to Georgia


The doors slide open from the airport, offering a nice, warm breeze; a welcomed difference from the current weather back home. I cut out on my workday a smidge early, confiding in my father that I was visiting a friend for the weekend. I’m not gonna pretend that a ridiculous smile wasn’t plastered on my face. He told me to have fun, and that he’d cover for me, ducking out before the end of my regularly scheduled day.

The flight was easy, just a little over two hours, and here I am.

Welcome to Georgia!

I sling my leather jacket over my shoulder, having opted for the full black, hopefully sexy—probably not mysterious—look. I’m going Sandy from Grease, when she tries to flip the script. Though, honestly, Rizzo seems more my speed. Maybe not... she was kind of a bitch. Meh, I guess if the shoe fits?

Anyway, I search past the multiple lane roadway in front of me, buses and cars whizzing through, desperate to get people to their destinations on time.

I suck in a breath when my eyes meet his, appearing way more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him, even if it hasn’t been all that much. And holy hell, looking like sex on legs in a pair of snug jeans. Not like these skinny shits I have on, but... trust me on this, they are hugging nicely.

Trey stands up straight, off the silver truck he was leaning against, double parked across the several lanes of traffic. He slides those fingers—which I’m excited about—through his hair, dark brown strands easily falling back to the sides of his face. A white t-shirt, delectable torso practically visible underneath, arms crossing over his chest, showing off his well-defined bi’s, tri’s, get in between my thighs.

Seriously though, I think I’m drooling. Is it hot here? It actually is fairly warm—you know what I mean.

He offers a casual wave, and a simple smile, before tucking a hand into his pocket. I return the gesture—kind of—robotically sticking a rigid palm straight up in front of me. My teeth clench into one of those uncomfortable, and ridiculously overzealous, double chin, grins.

Nope. No, bitch, we’re not doing the awkward shit.

I shake out my hair, trying to level up my own sex appeal, immediately fixing the gawking to my best attempt at a sexy smile, giving a subtle—not really—up and down of his slightly over six-foot frame. I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little jealous of the tan he seems to have goin’ on. Maybe I’ll get a chance to soak in a hefty dose of some Vitamin D—wink, wink.

Lugging my suitcase behind me, once I time a break in traffic, I jog, daintily of course—yeah, right—across the road, walking straight towards him. Head up, shoulders back, chest out. Come on, who’d blame me? Also, lesson learned, I threw on a pair of flats. Fuck the fashion at this point.

His smile grows larger the closer I get to him, our gazes locked on each other, my breath hitches—is it possible he’s even more gorgeous than before?

A loud horn blaring makes me jump. Trey’s eyes go wide as I continue my stroll. Okay, it’s a speed walk, trucking it across the street. After shooting my middle finger up, naturally, not paying any mind to the car that clearly wasn’t following the extremely reduced speed limit and the yield to pedestrians sign.

Douche Emperor.

He laughs, a deep and infectious type of laugh, watching me, holding my gaze until I walk right up to him. His honest and genuine look quickly shifting. The trace of a handsome grin still on his lips, but I’m not sure... he seems...

“You look”—his eyes drag up and down my body, then back to my face—“hot,” he says, tongue sweeping over his bottom lip before he bites down on it, little brow raise happening.

This is something. Also, way to go, Trey, straight to it with the flirtatious behavior. Maybe this is the difference I’m sensing?

“Thanks,” I reply. My eyes pinging open when he brushes a soft kiss on my cheek, palm on my waist, headed down. He smells fresh out of the shower, and a strand of his hair tickles over the side of my face, sending a jolt of electricity straight to the promised land.

Wait... who is this guy?

“You seem”—I study him suspiciously as a smug type of grin spreads over his lips—“different.”

And now that I think of it, he was last night. He came straight out asking me if I was creeping in his messages; I feel like that’s something the Trey I met prior would have fumbled all over. Straightforward is a thing I can get down with, but still...

“Been trying something new.” He teases his fingertips down my arm, leaving a trail of heat, reaching back, pulling the suitcase handle from my grip. His face dangerously close to mine, those pale green eyes having a different look, a sort of darkness in them. It’s actually hot, I think?

“And how’s that workin’ out for you?” I counter with a coy smile. Do I really wanna know how it’s been working out for him?

Trey stands up straight. “You’ll have to let me know,” he replies cooly, letting out a single laugh, like he knows the effect he’s having on me, and he seems... confident. But not just confident. Kind of... arrogant.


He pulls open the passenger side door, a brief glimpse of his sweeter side as a softer smile curves on his lips. Okay, this I like.

I arch a brow, trying to maintain a playful and flirty exchange. “So chivalry isn’t dead?” I ask, totally kidding and honestly wanting to facepalm myself. Like that’s some of the most obvious shit I could say.

Bitch, you’re such a cliché.

He watches me climb up into his truck; the AC blowing out cool air as the scent, his scent, lingering on the leather interior completely encompasses me. He smells really good!

“It’s called southern hospitality,” he replies, winking one of those gorgeous eyes. The long and thick lashes curling over them, making me shiver. Okay, quiver. Nah, scratch that, in my underwear there’s about to be a river.

Damn you, Court!


We make the drive, in a somewhat comfortable kind of silence, the sun fading across the horizon as we pass by rows and rows of massive Oak trees. Trey having told me he’s going to drop me off at the hotel, has somewhere he’s gotta go, and will catch up with me later.

So... that’s cool.

The mixed signals are coming in like a mother, but I’m just gonna go with it. No pressure. Not like he owes me anything. Not like he had time to prep for my abrupt arrival. And anyway, he has a life.

I stare straight ahead, out the windshield, taking a few deep breaths and stealing quick sideways glances. He keeps throwing me off. One minute I’ll catch those pink lips parted as if he wants to say something, the next his brows pull together. Clearly something is going on in that head of his.

Just trying to be chill and not make this weird. Okay, it’s already weird. Hi, how’s it going? We banged, and it was amazing, then I ass called you—not exactly, but close enough—we had this full on convo, which was sweet. We both ignored each other prior, or didn’t attempt contact for, what... two months? Then my friend forced us together. Nothing is remotely awkward about any of this.

What the hell am I doing here?!

“So, if I don’t catch up with you tonight...” He bites down on the side of his lip, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “If my thing goes over...” Breathing out a sigh, a small frown bunches his cheek.

“I’m sorry?” I snap my arms across my chest, shooting him a shitty look. “Do you not want me to be here?” I ask with a heaping dose of sass. “Because I know this is last minute, but you’re all kinds of wishy-washy, and if you’re gonna act like a dick, you can honestly just drop me off.”

I fight the urge to smack a hand over my mouth. Sorry, not sorry though. Which is it? Because this guy isn’t like the one I met, or like the one I chatted with last night.

“I’m not a dick,” he defends with a dry laugh, still with a look of uncertainty on his face.

We need to get on the same page here.

“Pull over!” I blurt out.


“Pull over.”

When Trey finds an acceptable spot on the fairly desolate road—okay, it’s not, but compared to city traffic, it’s light—I turn my body to face him, his wandering eyes traveling to my perfectly calculated cleavage. Yeah, that’s right. I definitely came to play. Though I’m starting to consider redshirting it.

“What’s the game plan?” I ask as he shifts the car to park, leaning his head back against the seat, looking in my direction, but not at me. “Do you want me to be here or not?”

He takes a few deep breaths, dropping his hands from the steering wheel to his lap, his eyes still avoiding mine. “I do,” he mumbles.

“I’m happy to help you with the club and all that shit. I just thought...”

He shifts against the leather seat, lips scrunching from side to side, honestly looking uncomfortable.

“There’s no pressure.” I backtrack. Damn, am I being clingy? “It’s just that I thought we could, ya know...” I lift a shoulder, looking down at my hands.

Oh, my God, you sound desperate.

He’s probably in a relationship or something. Not like Court even gave him the opportunity to get out of this jam. Fuck. I feel like an idiot.

Alright, last ditch effort.

“Remember when I said you can be however you want with me?” I ask, placing my palm on his forearm, resting on the console between us.

Trey nods slowly, glancing from my hand to face, his eyes finally reaching mine.

“That goes for now, too. So...” I shrug, watching as his shoulders begin to relax. “What do you want this to be?”

He sucks in a long breath, a smile creeping back over his lips. “What do you want it to be?” he responds, quirking a brow.

Also... why’s he acting so damn weird!?

“You seeing anyone?” I ask, trying to make my voice sound as nonchalant as possible. Please say no, please say no. I understand that this is selfish, and highly hypocritical, but still.

“Nothing serious,” he answers with a dismissive tilt of his head—dagger. “You?”

I swallow a lump that seems to have lodged itself in my throat, forcing an easygoing smile onto my face. It’s fine. Why would I even care?

“Nothing serious,” I throw his answer—which is also my truth—back at him. I notice Trey wince, ever so slightly, jaw tensing before relaxing back to that smile.

“So...” I unbuckle my seatbelt, keeping my focus on his. “You wanna—”

His eyes flash with that dark look. “Hell, yeah,” he cuts me off, gripping onto my wrist, yanking me, which really isn’t necessary because I’m already launching from the passenger seat.

Landing on his lap in some sort of straddle, legs bent underneath me. My hands clutch the sides of his neck, fingers threading into the back of his thick waves, feeling another thickness as we go for it.

Our mouths consume each other’s, tongues twirling, lips smacking, straight out the gate. His fingertips dig into my hips, pulling me, guiding me, coaxing my body over his as a sexy, deep moan vibrates from his chest.

Wandering hands go wild, crazy, roaming all over the place as the kiss grows deeper, faster. His large palms slipping under the hem of my thin shirt, roughly cupping my breasts as I let out a sharp gasp. My hips grinding, craving him as I feel his bulging arousal between my legs, my body aching for him.


“Shit.” Trey breaks the mouth to mouth, blowing out a hard breath, tilting his head back. His chest heaving against mine. “I don’t...” He lets out a quiet groan. Eyes closing before he levels his stare to mine. “I don’t have anything.” He looks at me through those lashes with an apologetic and completely fucking frustrated expression.

“I’m on the pill,” I offer, wrapping my arms tighter around his neck, studying his hesitant look. I’ve been on it for years, faithfully. However, I’d always, fucking always, doubled up. Condoms, yes, because STDs are for real. “Unless you got something going on.” I glance down to his lap, which is delivering a solid upward thrust, forcing my palms to fly up and smack the roof of his truck, looking back at him with pinched brows and a smirk.

He catches my expression, I’m totally joking—mostly. Still, this is a conversation everyone should have. “I’m good,” he responds. “You?”

“Pfft.” Balancing my hands on his shoulders, I lean back, raising a brow. “Yeah, I’m good.” I don’t know what possesses me. Normally I’d never, but I trust him. Oh yeah, and the increasing throb, the insane desire to have him inside me, like yesterday, well... here we go.

Trey pulls me even closer, as if that’s possible. His mouth diving to the base of my neck, a throaty moan falls from my lips as I throw my head back, his fingers sliding under the top of my jeans.

We both fumble, working like crazy, trying to free the other from the strict confines of our pants, both moany as all hell, filled with this mutual need. Our bodies writhing, screaming out in desperation as I clumsily pull his jeans off.

Okay, not off. I get Trey’s undone, yanking them down to his knees, watching as his impressive, and standing at full attention, thick length—which is definitely ready for this rodeo—springs free. His lips tug to a smug grin as he takes in my brief, but deserving, gasp.

Yeah, yeah. It’s big, we get it.

He tries to peel the poured in jeans from my legs, which is a much higher degree of difficulty.

Slipping off my shoe, falling into him as my knees attempt to steady myself on either side of his waist, I finally free a leg, able to tug my jeans off, inside out. Trey makes a move to adjust the seat, which is going extremely slow. We both chuckle, stopping the grope fest, or struggle, just staring at each other for a few beats.

That dark, somewhat indifferent look disappearing as he studies me, cupping my cheeks in his warm grasp.

“I missed your face,” he repeats my words from last night in a soft voice. My palms lay flat over his chest, lips parting with hard breaths as I take him in. One hand cruises up my spine, meeting the back of my neck, green irises blazing.

Before I can respond, he claims my mouth with his, swiftly moving to deliver ravenous kisses down the side of my neck. His focus of heavy breaths in my ear isn’t lost on me. He hooks a finger around my underwear, practically ripping them off. Shit, yeah, they’re toast. Gliding it over me, groaning when he connects with my wet center—or maybe that’s me? My head snaps back. I mean it. Back. Almost smack dab onto the top of his steering wheel, but his swift hand, the one that isn’t currently readying the playing field, catches it before it collides.

Once I’m steady, well, steady enough, he clasps his palms to the small of my back, rubbing the tip of his erection over my throbbing core, eliciting a loud moan as he teases my clit. I struggle to adjust, trying to bend my legs, or lift them, or find a place for my extremities in the limited space between the console and door.

Car sex ain’t easy.

His eyes lock to mine as he sweeps a hair from the side of my face, tucking it behind my ear. Shaking his head slightly, Trey closes his eyes for a second or two, reopening them. “Turn around,” he demands, and I like it.

Before I can move myself, I’m momentarily caught up, studying his handsome features, my palms rubbing over his chest. Lifting me, his large hands tight against my waist, turning me to face away from him.

I attempt not to cringe, or even think about any of the visuals travelers may get as I peer through the windshield—okay, there’s a few cars driving by. Dusk has settled in and the windows are tinted so it’s highly doubtful anyone will—“Oh, my God!” I cry out as his fingertips dig into my hips, slamming me down in one fluid move, filling me with every single inch.

My head falls back to his shoulder, Trey gripping my jaw, turning to me, his nose skimming the side of my face before his lips lay a soft kiss against my skin.

“Okay?” he asks, not moving, waiting for my response, which is...

“Uh-uh,” I squeak out, barely nodding my head as my mouth drops open. The feeling of him, so deep inside me, making me clench tight around him. My hips moving as we stare at each other, the grip of his hand guiding the soft rocking motion as my eyes grow wide.


“Fuck!” he groans out the word, finishing my thought.

The movements quicken as our bodies adjust to each other, creating that perfect rhythm. Trey going up while I go down. His cock reaching farther, deeper, stroking my walls, hitting all the spots as I whimper with each toe-curling rock of his pelvis beneath mine.

His breaths fall heavy from his nostrils as he bites down on my shoulder, teeth sinking through the fabric of my shirt. “You... feel...”

“Incredible,” I finish—the statement, that is. But... pretty sure I’m almost there.

Balancing my palms on his legs, I roll my body over his, my hips eager, working faster. Trey responds, thrusting himself into me. Lifting off the seat with throaty grunts as I cry out each time he pounds into me, already feeling that sensation, that pull, that tightening, tingling in the pit of my stomach.

I grasp in front of me—smacking the hi-beams, windshield wipers swishing side to side—reaching, clawing, searching for anything to hang onto as the rush begins inside me. His palms kneading my waist, repeatedly slamming me onto him.

“Don’t fucking stop!” I cry out, still struggling with the balance and the space constraints. But I’m on a mission. Kicking my leg up, my shoeless foot connects with the stereo, making some country music or whatever start to blare.

Trey slows his pace, running a hand down my leg, then gripping my wrist, pulling my arm to drape across his shoulder. The angle, the intensity of each buck of his hips making me constrict, tightening over his length. He bites down on his lips each time a moan of what I’ll equate to pure ecstasy leaves my throat.

He moves harder, faster, thrusting his body with abandon while my mouth hangs open, the sounds of our skin smacking together fill the car along with pants and moans. And holy hell!

Turning to the side, our eyes connect. That insane buildup, reaching its breaking point. His breaths heating my face, gaze intent, brows furrowed as he watches me whimper, his lips hovering over mine.

“I missed you so much. No one makes me feel as good as you do,” I pant out the words while my eyes stay on his, immediately regretting it as a look of alarm washes over his face.

In a swift movement, he lurches me forward, his hand pressing down on the small of my back as my cheek smashes against the steering wheel. The amazing feeling that was just about to have me fall apart, leaving my body just as fast as it came—no pun intended this time.

With a few more sloppy jerks of his hips, Trey clutches the back of my shirt, bunching it in a fist, lifting it. I hug the steering wheel, not even having time to think about what in the actual shit is going on as he slips out of me.

A few quiet groans grumble from his chest as he reaches his climax. Hot and sticky against the skin of my lower back.




Welcome to Georgia!?

A/N: wait... wut😐😐😐
Hahahhaha 🥴🥴🥴🥴 thoughts? Comments?

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