(Written using ideas from my friend S, with her kind permission)
Dating a famous actor had its ups and downs. The downs included knowing that there were multiple people on the planet who thought you weren't good enough for him.
The ups definitely included the showbiz parties that he was invited to and always brought you as his plus one. The great food and the champagne were always welcome, and this party had spared no expense on either. And for some reason, the bubbles always went straight to his head, making him drunk, giggly and adorably snugly. You laughed as he whispered something into your ear, you had no idea what it was, but you followed as he went outside, stopping only to grab your coat.
You watched him with fondness as he walked out into the street on wobbly legs and hailed a taxi, the end-of-the-night glow still fresh on his cheeks. He looked so damn good in a tuxedo, bowtie open and hanging down around his neck, top two buttons of his white shirt open.
A black cab stopped beside you and you both bundled into the back seat, thighs touching. You could feel the heat radiating from his body and it was sending waves of electricity though you.
In the darkness of the back of the cab, you felt him shift. Then you felt the click-click-click of the zip of your dress going down.
And his hand disappearing inside the fabric.
The intoxicating scent of alcohol and the sandalwood of his expensive aftershave filled your nostrils as he moved closer, his hand on your bare skin. Fingertips brushing against you, moving to grip a handful of your flesh. You felt goosebumps forming as his hot breath ghosted your neck.
It all felt so illicit. You knew you shouldn't be doing it but God you wanted to so much. Your hand started on his lower thigh and slowly moved up to feel him hardening beneath your palm. His fingers were still grasping the skin of your exposed back, the other hand tangling through your hair and tracing behind your ear. His soft voice was whispering all the bad things he wanted to do to you if the fucking taxi ever got you home.
He was forced to take off his jacket to mask the bulge emerging in his trousers but you ignored that and carried on playing with him, expertly flicking open the button and unzipping the flies that led to your prize.
You knew he was hoping that the back of the taxi was dark enough that the driver couldn't see you teasing him beneath the black fabric, and you couldn't help but giggle as he let out a sharp intake of breath, trying desperately not to react to your ministrations. He was burning under your palm, you were fully aware that you were driving him absolutely insane. Your touch always did.
His grip on your skin intensified the more you stroked him, and you could tell he was being really careful not to let on how aroused he was, as the driver took a detour back home due to roadworks. You knew it was taking everything he had not to cum in your hands and the thought tuned you on so much that you could feel yourself getting wet already.
His breathing changed from long, deep breaths to a succession of hot, shallow huffs against your neck. His body tensed against you and you knew he didn't have long to last... you wondered to yourself if you should stop and edge him or should you let him make a deliciously dirty mess all over his nice suit?
He noticed the wicked glint in your eye. "No... Don't let me cum here," he pleaded with his eyes.
The taxi stopped, signalling that you were finally home. You didn't bother to zip up your dress; you simply covered yourself with your coat. He looked up at you with dark desire in his eyes as you climbed out of the taxi and ran up the steps to open the door.
He hastily zipped up his flies, threw a note at the driver and bolted out of the taxi after you. The driver shouted something about change but he yelled "Keep it!" in a strained voice, not caring how much he had just paid for the short ride.
