Sweet Little Thing: A Novella (Sweet Thing) by Renee Carlino

stop in there too.”
    I squeezed her hand. “Were you in there this morning, you sneaky little mouse?”
    “No, why?”
    “So you didn’t see my present to you?”
    “No, actually I gave my mom the key so she could leave my gift to you down there. I was going to give it to you tomorrow.”
    Before putting up the privacy screen, I told the driver to drive around for a bit and then I got on my knees in front of Mia and slowly pulled her garter off with my teeth. She opened her legs just enough for me to spot her light blue, lace panties.
    “Is that superstitious or traditional?” I said to her in a low voice.
    “I just thought you would like them.” She shrugged. “You can ditch them if you want.”
    See, this is why I married this girl. The beauty of Mia’s early ’90s throwback dress was that I was able to very easily slide her panties down.
    She patted the seat on her left. I moved and undid my fly faster than John Holmes. She reached in, took a hold of me, and started stroking.
    “Mmm. You are my naughty little wife now.”
    She leaned in and whispered near my ear, her breath hot and minty. “I just want to fuck my husband, that’s all. Can I do that now?”
    Oh. My. God.
    “Uh huh, sure. By all means, please do not let me slow this show down for one more minute.”
    She climbed onto my lap, and then a moment later, I was buried inside her. She moved slowly and sensually at first. I reached over and turned the volume up on the stereo. “Ball and Biscuit” by the White Stripes was playing.
    “Did you plan this?”
    She began moving faster on top of me, panting hard and whimpering. “Yes.” She breathed loudly.
    I braced the back of her neck and kissed her hard. “You’re so fucking rad.”
    “Everything is rad.” She cried as she tried to steady her breath. I felt it coming. I heard it coming, that part in the song, about a minute forty-five into it, which just happened to coincide perfectly with what we were feeling, the building up, the sensation of reaching that peak. Right when the guitar shredding started, I flipped Mia over on her back, across the seat. She instantly placed her heels on my shoulders. I reached down and forced the front of her thighs toward me so that I was in as far as I could go, and then with my thumb I pressed down into her and began making circles in her flesh while I drove harder and harder. She was bucking against me; her eyes were closed, her mouth open, her back arched and her neck strained. The back of her head was completely pressed hard into the seat. She was bracing herself on the door behind her.
    I slowed.
    “Go,” she yelled. “Go,” she cried. “Fuck me.”
    Oh my God, I get to do this all the time. I picked up my pace and then something else took over. God, if I could have crawled up inside her, I would have. The warmth I felt around my dick was flooding my entire body. Her dress was bunched under her and up around her head, but she couldn’t care less. My sweet, piano-playing Mia, all sex-crazed and unashamed. Her mouth was open as far as it could go, but no sound was coming out. I watched her in wonder; all I could hear was the screeching of the electric guitar and then finally when I did hear her, it was unintelligible sounds of rapture. I was feeling some sort of delirium when it was all over with. I was as motionless as could be, on my knees, still holding her legs around me. She opened her eyes. She looked ravished, pink from the cheeks down.
    “I love you,” she said, looking right in my eyes.
    I leaned over her and kissed her sweet mouth. “Let’s never leave this limo. Let’s just wither up and die here. I’ll starve to death in this limo with a goddamn smile on my face.” I nipped at her lip and then her neck. “You are a sexy little thing, by God.”
    She giggled and then something occurred to me. I can’t actually say that it occurred to me, it was more like it shot me point-blank with a freakin’ bazooka. It was the image of my tiny