He pushed the small of her back with a wide palm so she was forced closer. She could make out his head, tilted upwards towards her face. With unerring, impressive precision, his lips caught hers.
Her brain shorted out. Yep. This was what she wanted. All she wanted. Just this touch. Lots and lots of this kind of touch.
The car was like a bubble—the world, all her worries excluded from it. Only a very dim light from the capped streetlights pierced the tinted windows, bathing them in a magical kind of gloom, making other senses do the work.
Touch, taste, scent, sound.
Touch was supreme. Sublime.
As they kissed, she worked her fingertips over his ultra-short hair, delighting in the soft-yet-roughness of it. Tracing the hard bones of his skull, down his cheekbones. Learning him in the dark. Speed and secrecy added an illicit flavor to the moment. She felt absolute certainty her need would be met.
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 fucking 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-fucking 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.
“Kiss me,” she ordered.
He kissed her breast. Sucked her nipple deep into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Used a hand to torment her other aching nipple. His other hand slid up her inner thigh. Finally slipping beyond, and beneath the band of her panties.
“So wet.” He paused from tonguing her nipple to murmur in a hoarse voice. “I want in.”
About freaking time. But she didn’t get the chance to tell him. He returned to kissing her mouth. His fingers teased lightly, circling, tracing the intricacies of her sex. Making her writhe more, eager to guide him home. She wanted him inside her. Now.
One finger teased, dipping only slightly into her. She growled against his lips. Not enough. She swore he smiled as he kissed her. An evil freaking smile.
Then he pushed that finger right in. She gasped and arched. Only to her frustration he pulled out again. A second later he was back. She realized he’d crossed two fingers together to make a thicker rod for her to ride. Giving her as much friction as he could. He rubbed her clit with his thumb. While cupping her breast and working his tongue into her mouth in those so damn frustrating whirls.
All she could do was clench her hands on the seat back behind him and hang on.
Faster and faster he flicked her, deeper he finger-fucked her, and more passionately he kissed her, his tongue matching the rhythm of his fingers. Until she was unable to ride, unable to respond in any way other than on pure mindless instinct—just holding there, l
apping up the pleasure he fed her. The literal fulfilment of her body. Pulsing within her again and again and again.
Oh no.
Oh Yes.
He didn’t release her from the kiss as she sobbed into his mouth. Didn’t stop the pumping of his fingers, or the fast flick of his thumb.
Not until she’d drenched his hand in her arousal. Not until her mouth slackened, unable to kiss him back because of the basic instinct forcing her to actually breathe. Not until her whole body was shaking on his.
Her heart thundered. Her mind shattered.
Only then did he finally still the fingers locked deep inside her, stopped stroking her agonisingly sensitive clit.
But he didn’t stop the kisses. Only the quality changed to gentle caresses, easing her through the over-sensitive aftermath of such an intense orgasm. Until she started kissing him back again. Until she entered a whole other sensual realm.
It was no longer blood coursing through her veins, but licks of fire. She’d thought she was hot before? Now it was different. Now she was lax and replete, yet filled with a kind of energy that came only from deep, deep satisfaction. And intense, animal hunger.
That was how he wanted to play it? So intense?
There was no more thought. There was only appetite, and sensory delight in a raw physical passion. The elemental call of basic instinct. The desire of one body for another. And the desire to pleasure that other body, the way she’d been pleasured. To feel that power.
“Now.”
He didn’t argue, just reached out to push her long skirt higher so it sat in a swathe about her waist, exposing as much as possible in the gloomy light.
“I fucking love these boots.” He ran his hands over them, then slipped onto her skin. “And I love seeing your bare thighs. Spread them wider, let me feel all the way up.”
Her boots laced up to her knees. She liked them too. Liked how he firmly gripped her ankles and then palmed up the leather until he hit skin. She liked it even more when he went higher.
“Riding boots.” He lifted his chin and nipped her lip with his teeth in a tiny, sharp bite. “You want to ride me for real?”
Bareback? Nothing more between them? “I want you to slam into me so deep,” she muttered huskily, finally answering the question he’d asked earlier and letting her innermost fantasy out. For the first time in her life free enough to. “I want to feel your balls smacking against me. I want you to fuck me until your cock’s rubbed raw.”
She wanted him worn out and aching and unable to move.
He groaned. “That hard?”
“Harder.” She writhed on him, showing him what she meant. It took only a few fast movements to get her beyond words again. She was so far gone on rocking on him again. He felt so freaking fantastic. So big. She loved how wide he spread her. How powerful he felt beneath her. He grabbed a hank of her hair and twisted it, so she let her head fall back for him to fuck her mouth with his some more while she kept up her riding practice.
“Condom?” she panted in the one second he let her snatch a breath.
“You’re sure?”
Of course she was freaking sure. “Do. You. Have. A. Condom?”
Damn, she ought to be all twenty-first century woman and carry her own, but this was so beyond the unexpected. She’d been celibate for longer than she cared to remember. She didn’t want to remember anything at this moment.
“There’s a pack in the First Aid kit.” He twisted to the side, sliding a hand under the seat and pulling out a neat black pack with ‘First Aid’ emblazoned across the center in a white so bright she was able to read it even in this dim light. And with the ‘Summerhill’ logo in the bottom right corner.
She laughed. Of course there was a condom in it. Because lifties no doubt screwed all the pretty ski tourists in any spot they could.
“You work for Summerhill?” she asked as he hurriedly opened the zipper of the bag.
“That is the resort we’re at.” He chuckled, then swore crudely as half the contents of the kit spilled onto the car floor.
“Do you know them?” Savannah asked vaguely as she spread her fingers over the assorted items, hunting for any square foil packets.
“Who?”
“The Hughes family. Rex and Connor…” Ah. She’d found one. She tore into the packet with her teeth and had the condom in her fingers before she realized that he hadn’t answered. That he’d totally stiffened.
She laughed and leaned into him, kissing him as she finally got to work his zipper all the way down.
He groaned as she freed his rigid erection. She drew breath. No wonder it had felt so good to rock on him, he was huge. She wrapped her fingers around the broad, blunt tip of him, tapped down the length, tracing the thick vein on the underside.
“Sugar. I… need to…”
She laughed at his choked tone and lifted his face to kiss him again. “You don’t want me to put it on?”
“Sugar…” he sounded desperate.
Power rivered through her. He was that hot for her? As desperate as she? “Shut up and kiss me.”
The guy could kiss so damn good. He groaned and offered her his mouth. And she took it. Gloried in the way he worked it. She writhed on him again. So close. So, so close.
His hand suddenly tightened on her arm. “Give me a sec… You’re sure?”
“I want you now.” She sat back a fraction and rolled the condom down his straining cock with a deftness she had no idea she had. Must have been the desperation.
Kneeling up slightly she pulled aside her drenched panties. There was no time to get fully naked. No need. He was exactly what she wanted, where she wanted.
“Sugar—”
She slid down on him and whatever he’d been about to say was lost in his guttural groan. In her high-pitched squeal. She bit her lip, cutting off her own sound.
“Sugarlips,” he breathed harshly, lifting a hand to pull her lower lip free. “Don’t hold it back. Hold nothing back.”
“Then kiss me.” She sank onto him for a moment. Sank into his kiss.
And then, slowly, she returned to her rhythm, feeling him deep inside her. Thick and long and hard and so fantastic it was a wonder her eyes didn’t roll back in her head.
No more words. Only sighs, then ragged, rapid breathing as she worked to ride him harder and faster. In seconds it became the wildest physical connection. A literal coming together. She threw her head back, utterly abandoned as she sought her release. Holding nothing back. Unafraid to writhe, rotating on him, violently sliding up and down his hot, stiff cock.
His skillful fingers sought out her clit, rubbing enough to send her crazy. She was so full, so on the edge. She ground down on him. So hot. So deliciously hot. Sensation streamed—pleasure she hadn’t felt in so long. In ever.
“Like that?”
Like he didn’t already know the freaking answer. “More,” she moaned. “So good.”
“Yeah.” He sounded so damn sexily stunned. Like she was.
She went rigid, her muscles screaming. Too good. Too intense. The orgasm tore through her. Her mouth parted, a scream that first sounded so raw and harsh in the small space… and then went silent as her vocal cords twisted up and shook like every other muscle in her body.
The. Absolute. Best.
Sweat tracked down her face. She panted from riding him so hard. Her legs burned from the strain. But she wanted so much more. No matter that she was sore. That she was tired. She still wanted more. That orgasm had wiped her, but oh man, did she want more.
“Sorry, Sugar, I can’t hold back anymore…”
He’d been holding back?
“Don’t,” she begged feeling both anticipation and amazement. “Take what you want. Take me.”
She needed him to finish it for both of them.
He groaned, lifting his face to kiss her so hard.
Sweat slicked between them, dripped from her face to his. The tinted windows had long since steamed completely. Uncaring that the car wa
s rocking on its wheels.
He switched his hold on her to grip her shoulders, trying to keep her rammed onto him to the hilt while bucking his hips upwards, working to fuck her harder, harder, deeper. A furious fight to the finish, desperate to maximise the sensations, reach that ultimate pleasure. He groaned between gritted teeth with each forceful thrust up. Faster and faster, until his voice reverberated in her ears in a continuous harsh sound of a fierce man pushed to his limits. She braced herself with one hand on his chest. She could feel the racing beat of his heart and the vibrations of his pained, desperate groans.
She curled her fingers into a fist as she fell into that hot mix of pleasure all over again. And she squeezed down on him as tightly as she could.
“Fuck. Yes.” He shouted. His hands grasped her hard and he arched up into her for an endless moment of ecstasy.
Her body mirrored his, slipping so easily again into that intense storm, clenching instinctively on him again and then again—like it would never let him go.
Until no muscle in her body would work anymore and she collapsed onto him.
Long moments later she was struggling to catch her breath. She kept her eyes tightly closed, pressing her face hard into his broad shoulder as she tried to return to normal. Beneath her, his chest rapidly rose and fell as he too recovered.
He said nothing. Nor did she. She couldn’t—was still trying to process what they’d just shared. It had been so rough, yet so gentle. All those kisses?
All her animal instincts had been met in that utterly physical half hour, but as reality returned, doubts needled their way in.
She’d been so unrestrained. So uncontrolled. So loud. She’d not given a damn. He’d offered and she’d taken what she wanted. Embraced it all and loved every second of it. Only now she felt vulnerability rise. She’d exposed herself in a way she never had before. Instinct screamed at her to build a defense. She drew a steadying breath and sat up, tried to look into his shadow-hidden eyes. “Tell a soul and I’ll—”
Oh hell, her voice was croaky.
“What? Break my balls? You just did.” He laughed. His voice too held a roughened edge. “Simmer down Sugar, I already told you no one will know. I don’t kiss and tell.” His hands stroked down her back, not skin to skin but over her shirt. Aiming to soothe rather than stir. “Relax.”
Bound For Me Page 4
