Bound for Me (Be for Me #4)(11)

Secretly she was glad she couldn’t see into his eyes. He saw too much. And she didn’t want to be seen at this moment. She just wanted to be free to indulge. Free from judgment, from fear. Free from everything but the pleasure of physical closeness.

Her fingertips coasted over him, down his neck, across his broad shoulders. His hands slid over her skin, up her skirt, seeking secret places. The most sensitive. Up and down the soft skin of her inner thighs.

And all the while he kissed her. Long, sweeping, erotic, indulgence kisses. The kind she’d never had before. The kind she couldn’t get enough of now, lingering and lush. Their lips sealed and broke and resealed. His tongue swirled within her mouth—alternating between smooth strokes and teasing swipes with a deliciously unpredictable rhythm.

Her impatience and need grew. Urgency. She slid his jersey up with fast fingers. He lifted his arms to she could remove it entirely. To her delight he wore nothing beneath. She leaned in and breathed. And touched—silken skin over solid-packed muscle. She reveled in the way those muscles moved beneath her. She tracked a finger through the light dusting of hair. She bent, rubbing her jaw against it. But only for a moment before sitting up and kissing him again. She needed as many of those kisses as she could get tonight. And as she kissed him, she danced her hips over his, writhing, rocking closer. Harder. Riding him. His erection bulged large and hard through his jeans. She needed him inside her. She needed that emptiness filled. She rocked harder, faster, rougher, more than halfway there already.

“You want it,” he rasped.

“Now.” She confirmed.

“Come first.”

“No. Fuck me.” She muttered breathlessly, brutally, shockingly blunt. “Now.”

“Soon, Sugar.”

“Now.”

He grabbed her hands, stopping her from forcing open his fly. He kissed her hard and deep. Then he pulled back with such a jerk he banged his head on the headrest behind him.

“I want to make you come. Want to see you come. Hear you come,” he muttered. “Want to feel you around me. Hot and wet.”

She was already both. She rubbed up and down his thighs, over his cock, eager to ease the ache tormenting her. So close to release. Needing more. “Take. Me. Now.”

“You want it hard?” He cupped her chin and lifted her face back from him, as if trying to see into her eyes.

She wanted it anyway he’d give it. She just wanted it now. “Hurry.” She ground down on him again.

“This is your party, Sugarlips. Tell me. Or show me.” He kissed her, his stubble rasping, almost bruising.

Right now all she wanted were those kisses. Her mouth was so hungry for them, her mind lost. There was no holding back. No fear of falling too hard or too fast. Because with him there could be only this. Only now. She rocked on him harder, mimicking the way she wanted to ride him. Writhing, rotating with fury. She heard his sharp intake of breath. Felt him tense up. Then she heard his smile. Heard the satisfaction—and the determination.

“Sugar, you really need to come first.” He skated those wickedly good fingers up her thigh, pausing to push her skirt higher again so he could access her. And he matched her movements, rocking up against her, banging against her core.

He was f*cking still covered. She wanted him sheathed only in a rubber. But as he rocked against her, she felt it rushing up on her. She growled in frustration, about to come but not wanting it this way. She wanted it all the way.

“What’s the bet the frigid bitch is still in there disinfecting the bar?”

Savannah froze.

“So freaking uptight.”

There were people laughing, talking, walking past the parked car.

“But I bet she’d like it doggy.”

Her blood iced.

“You have a real thing about seeing her on her knees, don’t you?”

Those jerks were walking past the car? Horrified, she couldn’t move. Thank heavens for the tinted windows. But that stupid thought fled as she felt a tidal wave of anger surge beneath her. She heard his muttered curse. Felt his flinch as he gathered himself.

Swiftly she moved, framed his face with her hands, drawing his attention back to her.

“Forget about them,” she whispered harshly.

“It’s that easy?”

“No,” she admitted. “So help me. Use that aggression. With me.”

Beneath her finger, she felt a vein pulsing hard at his temple. “You want to forget?”

“Everything,” she nodded.

“So do I.”

There it was. The lurking desire that mirrored her own. The need to forget everything even for five blissful minutes. What did he want to forget?

Why was he as eager to lose himself in that physical oblivion?

But there was no time to wonder. He reached up and kissed her again. French-f*cking kissed her—sweeping her away in a tempest of passion and anger and urgency—his as well as hers. She gasped under the onslaught and moved uncontrollably, circling her hips, rubbing her core over him again and again. She braced her hands on the seat behind him as he raked his hands up her body, locking her against him.

“I want to kiss you. Eat you. Fuck you. Make you come so hard you can’t walk or talk after.” He yanked apart her shirt. “So many times.” He slipped his hands inside her bra, pushing her breasts up and over the cups so they spilt over them in even plumper mounds. He smoothed strong thumbs over her tightly puckered nipples, making her shiver inside. At her tremble, he pressed his face against her breasts, rubbing his roughened jaw against her, causing an exquisite pleasure pain in her nipples.