“I’m freezing,” you mutter, teeth chattering.
Soda looks at you from the driver’s seat, watching you shiver. He grabs your hand.
“We’ll be início soon.” He says reassuringly, squeezing your hand. He squints and leans forward. “If I could actually see in front of me.” He muttered.
The snow was coming down hard, and it was pitchblack outside. The rua lights were black out from the flurries of heavy snow.
All of a sudden, Soda jerked the car onto the seguinte exit.
“Soda, this isn’t the right exit.”
“Y/N, there is no way we can drive início safely in this weather. We’re just gonna have to wait it out and let the plows come through.”
You sit for a second, silent, as he parked the car along the side of the deserted rest stop.
“Well, what are we going to do?” you huff.
“I don’t know.” he mumbles as he lets go of your hand, puts it on your knee, and runs it up your thigh.
You unbuckle your seatbelt, and mover over to straddle Soda. His hands grab your hips, and pulls you close. Lips crash. Before you know it, your ski jaqueta is off, his hands up under your shirt. You start to unzip his jacket, sliding it off.
He lets go of you for a segundo to pull his navy muscle camisa off. You start beijar again, your hands running through his hair, while he works on unclasping your bra.
You lean back to pull off your camisa and bra, then toss them in the back.
Soda smiles, his sweet, innocent smile, looking you up and down, then finally biting his lip as he reaches for your skirt, slowly tugging it off. You slip your boots and socks off. His shoes were already off.
You were in your underwear, shivering. You lean your forehead against his.
“I’m so cold.” You whisper.
“It’s going to get warm, don’t worry.” He grins.
“Soda, this isn’t the right exit.
Soda looks at you from the driver’s seat, watching you shiver. He grabs your hand.
“We’ll be início soon.” He says reassuringly, squeezing your hand. He squints and leans forward. “If I could actually see in front of me.” He muttered.
The snow was coming down hard, and it was pitchblack outside. The rua lights were black out from the flurries of heavy snow.
All of a sudden, Soda jerked the car onto the seguinte exit.
“Soda, this isn’t the right exit.”
“Y/N, there is no way we can drive início safely in this weather. We’re just gonna have to wait it out and let the plows come through.”
You sit for a second, silent, as he parked the car along the side of the deserted rest stop.
“Well, what are we going to do?” you huff.
“I don’t know.” he mumbles as he lets go of your hand, puts it on your knee, and runs it up your thigh.
You unbuckle your seatbelt, and mover over to straddle Soda. His hands grab your hips, and pulls you close. Lips crash. Before you know it, your ski jaqueta is off, his hands up under your shirt. You start to unzip his jacket, sliding it off.
He lets go of you for a segundo to pull his navy muscle camisa off. You start beijar again, your hands running through his hair, while he works on unclasping your bra.
You lean back to pull off your camisa and bra, then toss them in the back.
Soda smiles, his sweet, innocent smile, looking you up and down, then finally biting his lip as he reaches for your skirt, slowly tugging it off. You slip your boots and socks off. His shoes were already off.
You were in your underwear, shivering. You lean your forehead against his.
“I’m so cold.” You whisper.
“It’s going to get warm, don’t worry.” He grins.
“Soda, this isn’t the right exit.