She materialized out of nowhere, sprawled out on the passenger seat of your car, beautiful and naked and…
“Hello,” she said, all matter-of-fact. You screamed, and the car swerved across the empty highway. She laughed as her tail— her pointed red tail— wrapped around the steering wheel to steady the ride.
“Easy,” she drawled, retracting her tail, trailing it down your arm on the way. You met her eyes, mesmerized as they flashed under the streetlights. She raised an eyebrow.
“Eyes on the road, honey.”
“I’ve gone crazy,” you decided, shifting your eyes from the road to her and back, over and over. This is what you get, you thought, when you drive for twenty-two hours straight.
She stretched her arms over her head, arching luxuriously against the leather.
“Oh. No,” she sighed, settling herself deeper into the seat, “No. But I’ll drive you crazy,” she added, smirking lazily in your direction.
You ignored this, and kept your eyes on the dark road ahead of you. After several minutes of silence, you chuckled to yourself. Hallucinations. Never driving straight through the night again.
“Something funny?” You startled at her voice, and fumbled the steering wheel as an unbelievably warm hand settled on your thigh. Her tail once again wrapped around the wheel, and this time it held on.
“Easy,” she said again, hand inching higher on your leg, smoothing over your soft cotton pants. “I got it.” You turned your eyes downward to watch as her hand— long fingers, shining red nails — moved incrementally closer to your center.
“Yes?” she asked. You nodded, spreading your legs just a little further apart.
“Yes,” she murmured soft in your ear, and you shivered, caught in the the wild scent of fire, of amber and crackling ozone. “Open right up for me, baby, so good.” She pressed her mouth to the delicate skin right below your ear, and you gasped as her fingers pressed against the heat between your legs.
She sighed, sucking kisses against your neck as she pushed her hand up to your abdomen, stroking over your skin before delving below your waistband. Her fingers teased over your clit, slid gently between your folds, and your breath caught as they dipped inside.
“So wet, I can’t believe—“ her words broke on a shivery little moan, and she dragged her teeth over the delicate skin of your neck. Your breath left in a whoosh, and you ground your hips hard against her hand, seeking more heat, more pressure, more of her.
She laughed, electric like lightning, and rubbed harder, steady and sure as you writhed, shaking apart on her fingers. You could feel the heady tension building, the delicious clench and pull inside—
“Let go,” she moaned into your ear, quiet and nearly as desperate as you felt, “Let go for me, come on, honey, come—“
Helplessly, you obeyed.