Driven By Fate(26)

Give her what she needs.

But another, more familiar, voice shouted punish. “Sit down on me,” he commanded. “Take me deep and don’t move.”

She sunk onto his waiting arousal, moaning loudly, her perked-up nipples dragging over his mouth. His answering growl was directed at the ceiling, but he brought his head back up right away so he could look at her, because f*cking hell, she was beautiful—fragile and strong at the same time. He expected her to move, despite his instruction to stay still, but she didn’t. Her eyes were feverish, but their focus on him didn’t waver. Perfection. Jesus Christ.

“You’ve not yet taken it all in.” He stroked a hand down the right side of her ass and gave it a firm slap, earning him a whimper. “Let’s learn how to work with those extra inches, shall we? Use the ceiling for leverage.”

With a frustrated sob, she dropped one of her hands from the ceiling, but dutifully put it back up. Porter gritted his teeth as she slid her thighs wider on the seat and pressed down, impaling herself fully. “Oh god, oh god. Can I move now?”

“Who are you asking?” he ground out.

“My lord,” she cried. “I’m asking my lord.”

Hearing the title, a title that had seemed so ridiculous at first, filled him with relief. With possessiveness. With lust. So many things, he worried he might crack. “Francesca, I don’t do this kind of thing. I don’t f*ck in cars or chase women in my apartment. I don’t watch them work, or wonder if they’d like certain kinds of gifts. These are things I have with you. Don’t call me ‘sir’ ever again. I don’t like hearing it from you.”

At first, Porter didn’t know if he’d said the words out loud, words he hadn’t planned on sharing, words that revealed too much. When awe mixed with sexual need on her face, he knew he had. Very slowly, her hands came down from the ceiling. It was on the tip of his tongue to admonish her for breaking his rule, but nothing came out. Especially when those hands slid into his hair, soothed, healed all in an instant. “I want my one kiss now.”

I’ll break. He shook his head. “Francesca, no.”

Had she heard him? Her expressive eyes were staring at his mouth, her breathing growing more labored by the second. She looked up and met his gaze…just as she squeezed his cock with her inner walls, milking him in a sanity-stealing rhythm.

Lost. I’m a lost cause.

“Please, my lord.” She brought their lips together, let their rapid inhales and exhales mingle. Milked him, milked him. “Kiss me. I’ll ride you like a good girl. I just want to be a good girl for my lord. I’m sorry I was bad. So sorry. Let me show you.”

Porter threw his head back on a groan. His cock threatened to erupt inside her sweet body, then and there. So hot. I need…I need. Can’t deny her. Or myself. He spanked her backside, employing no mercy. It had the effect of a hammer hitting a nail, spearing her more firmly onto his erection. “Move, you little beggar. Fuck me. Move,” he shouted over her lingering scream.

As if broken from a trance, she jerked her hips back and took his full length once more, slowly, biting her lip and maintaining eye contact. Obliterating him. “So thick and hard,” she whispered, voice shaking. “I can feel you everywhere. You fill me up…all of me.”

His heart struggled to catch up with the lust quickening his blood. It roared, slamming into his ribs. Too much. He couldn’t take wanting her this bad and such honesty at the same time. “Faster. I need you faster. Stop making me think, Francesca.”

The connection between them seemed to burn brighter, almost blinding for a moment. She understood what he meant, even if he didn’t have a clue. “I can’t think when you kiss me.” Her gaze zeroed in on his mouth. “C-can we—”

Porter shot forward, finding her mouth before she could finish. He had no control anymore. Perhaps it had been dissipating since they met, but it felt like a tangible thing slipping through his fingers, fingers that clutched her to his chest, holding on for dear life. She spoke his name right before their mouths clashed and he shattered, pieces flying through the cab like shrapnel. Her mouth alone might have been enough to sustain him, but her hips entered the equation and nothing existed anymore but her * jerking back and forth on his cock. Fuck, f*ck, f*ck. They were equally desperate to come, groaning, struggling to find the best angle. Hell, every angle was the best angle. She bounced, she swiveled, he lifted her up and let her crash down. It didn’t f*cking matter.

She spread her thighs wide as they would go, latching onto his mouth after sucking in a deep, rasping breath, that lithe body working his rigid dick like her sole mission had become climaxing them both. Her enthusiastic kiss threatened to rule his consciousness, so Porter wrapped her hair in a tight fist, drawing her away. He needed to see her face when she came. Required it.

“What’s going to make your filled-up * shake? You need some roughening up?”

Her eyelids fluttered and she rode him faster. “Y-yes, my lord.”

Porter shot his right arm out, wrapping his hand around the back of her neck. He yanked her close, sinking his teeth into the flesh connecting her shoulder and neck. Only allowing himself a second to savor her scream, his hand began raining blows down on her taut bottom. Fast, stinging blows that would require care later, but now only flooded him with ownership. She ground down on him one final time before an orgasm rippled through her, accompanied by chants of his name. They went straight to his head, blacking out any and all of his remaining discipline.