Time (Laws of Physics #3)(52)

And then his hand was gone.

“Come here.”

“What? Where?” My eyes flew open. I hadn’t realized they were closed.

“I want this off,” he grunted to the strap of my dress, biting it and moving it off my shoulder, his stubbly beard scraping my skin. “Take it off.”

Jerking at the hem, I pulled it over my head, only struggling slightly to free my shoulders before he was there, helping. I reached around my back for the hook of my bra and he covered my hands, stopping me.

I looked up and found his eyes on the swells of my breasts. Abram licked his lips. “No. Leave it. I like it, for now.”

Moving me off his lap, he slid to the floor, opening my legs and kneeling between them. His mouth feasting on my neck, he reached inside the cup of my strapless bra with his index and middle finger to pinch and then pluck my nipple.

I cried out, surprised, and I felt him smile against my chest, bringing my breast completely out to soothe the offended peak with his hot mouth and tongue.

Oh. My. God.

“Abram.”

“Hmm.”

I cleared my throat, my body vibrating. “Will you do that again? Please?”

“What?” He tucked the abused breast back in my lingerie while reaching inside for the other. “This?”

Rougher than the first time, he pinched me, tugging harshly, and I gasped. Just like before, he soothed it with his tongue, drawing it into his mouth and sending churning, languid heat low in my belly, twisting between my legs.

Setting me to rights again, I whimpered, wanting more. He slid lower, holding my sides, kissing my stomach, swirling his tongue in my belly button and making my hips buck off the seat. Bracketing them, he used my position to pull down my underwear.

I tried to grab his fingers, but he was too fast.

“Oh my God, what are you doing?”

“I need you.”

“Abram—oh—oh—oh God.”

His hands had moved under my thighs, gripping my bare bottom and pulling me to the edge of the seat, his mouth there. Right there. Between my legs, licking, lapping, loud indecent sounds that made me wild.

Abram groaned, flexing his fingers on my backside and then slipping them from beneath me, down my legs to my ankles. He bent my knees, lifting my feet to the bench, spreading me wide, exposing me completely.

My fingers were in his hair, mindlessly grabbing and releasing, kneading and massaging his head and neck. I was so close, so close, so close.

“So close,” I moaned.

Abruptly, he removed my hands from his hair and replaced his mouth with his fingers, a light touch. I heard a click just before the darkness was replaced with a flood of light.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded as I blinked, endeavoring to adjust to the brightness, and caught the tail end of him pulling off his shirt, tossing it over his shoulder and advancing forward again, pulling me off the bench until I was kneeling with him on the floor.

His mouth fastened to mine, demanding, hungry. I tasted myself. I’d never tasted myself before and it made me crazy, making me feel reckless, naughty. Maybe a little vulgar. His hands moved over me, kneading, massaging and stroking my backside, lifting to unhook my bra and palm my breasts as it fell away. He groaned against my mouth, lifting the soft mounds.

“I’m tired of waiting,” he said, a growl, and turned us both to set me on one of the long side benches that ran the length of the stretch limo. His touch grew frenzied as he grasped and caressed my naked skin. “I’m so fucking tired of waiting.”

I wanted to say, Me too, but the words caught in my throat because his hands were everywhere and mine were fumbling stupidly for purchase. I reached for his pants, awkwardly unbuttoning and unzipping his fly, reaching my hand inside to cup him. Before I could feel the full, hard length, he pulled my hands away, freeing himself.

Abram shoved his pants down and I sucked in a breath, my hands hovering between us, not touching him even though I longed to do so. He was so beautiful. Thick and long and hard, his erection curved slightly upward, and—as a fan of anatomy—I knew that meant really good things. Really. Good.

My mouth watered in anticipation and a swirling heat pulsed between my legs. Entranced, I watched as he grabbed himself, rising above me, his immense, powerful shoulders and chest and arms filling my vision.

“Lie back,” he ordered, spreading my legs with his knee, stroking my opening with his erection before guiding himself inside and thrusting.

I gasped.

Thrusting.

I gasped again. My body arched off the seat as he withdrew and then immediately pushed deeper, rougher. Repeating the motion, his fingers laced with my fingers and he held them over my head, against the leather of the seat, biting and sucking on my neck.

I felt like I was being devoured. Possessed. Dominated. It was all so familiar, but this time we were naked. This time he was inside me, deep inside, skin to skin, damp and slick, the sparse hair of his chest friction against my breasts. His hips rolling and pushing, stroking my body with his much larger, more powerful one, holding me down, covering me.

I can’t breathe.

That same little fissure of fear ignited in my belly, making everything sharper, the sight of his glorious form brighter, more vivid. I loved it. I craved it. I welcomed it. He grunted, moving faster, the slap of his thighs against mine echoing in my ears, a purely carnal sound of sex and surrender. Taking, seizing, wild and rough, yet he moved with a skillful rhythm that matched my racing heart.