Drive: Cougars, Cars and Kink, Book 1

by Teresa Noelle Roberts

  When she touched Neil, the fabric, coarse and tough and polyester-laden, felt right because it was his uniform, or maybe because it was on his body. She traced the outline of the Boston Police Department patch on his upper arm, feeling the heat of his skin, the hardness of his muscles.

  “Uniform fetish?” He smiled as he said it, and the smile seemed to strip away her clothes and several layers of skin.

  “I never thought so before tonight. I still don’t think so. But the uniform works on you.”

  “Have to show you the dress uniform sometime.” He was unbuttoning his shirt as he said it. “Those pants fit better. And you’ll like the jacket. Everyone likes that.”

  She swallowed hard. It wasn’t like he was showing more skin yet, but the white tee clung to his chest in a way the uniform shirt didn’t. Dark hair poked through in places, and she could see his nipples, erect and dark in contrast to his fair skin. “I’m sure. But I like this better. Your body, under thin cotton.” She reached out, ran her hand down his chest. The T-shirt was soft under her fingertips, with the crispness of his hair underneath, and warm skin. She brushed his nipple, was rewarded by an intake of breath and a low, “Damn…” He grabbed her wrist then, and that gesture, that demand, almost brought her to her knees. “You’re making me crazy. Crazier. Let me get undressed.” He let go of her wrist. It felt lonely. His touch echoed in her skin, pulsed at her wrist. Her ass throbbed, and so did her clit, in time with her heart, her blood, that insistent beat in the place he’d held.

  “Good. Should I…” She gestured down the front of her body.

  “God, yes. Wanted you naked an hour ago.”

  She revved like the Mustang’s engine at the heat in his voice. Her hands felt like they belonged to someone else, but somehow she managed to undress without fumbling too much.

  Her clothes ended up in a heap on the floor by the bed. She noted Neil laid his uniform across a straight-backed chair, more a gesture of respect, she thought, than keeping it neat, because it already bore the signs of a day’s wear and would probably need to be cleaned.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him naked, but this time she could really look at him, though arousal and exhaustion warred to un-focus her. Really drink in the long, lean legs, the cut abs and muscled chest stippled with dark hair. His arms were glorious too, not too big or unnaturally defined, not over-the-top gym-rat, just fit. Yeah, she’d seen it all before, but it wasn’t like it was going to get old any time soon.

  And he was studying her the same way she knew she was studying him, as if looking for wonderful surprises they’d missed in yesterday’s frenzy.

  Like the hip dimples—she didn’t know what else to call them, but she hadn’t seen that little indentation in the muscles, except in photos online, for years. Color her shallow, but she liked seeing them in real life again.

  “I could kiss and nibble you all over,” she admitted. “All those pretty muscles.”

  He suppressed a laugh. “Pretty? That’s a new one. I’d like directing you on just how to kiss and nibble. But not now.” He dragged his gaze up and down her body then looked beyond her to the bed. Yeah, she was standing right in front of the big dark-framed bed and she’d been so busy staring at Neil she’d hardly noticed he’d maneuvered her there. Nice work, Callahan. “All day…all the damn day, I’ve thought about spanking your ass, tying you to the bed and fucking you until neither of us can worry about car-killing psychos.”

  She felt her face flame, all the way down to her breasts. Would that make it a blush or a flush of excitement? Probably both. “Glad I wasn’t the only one.”

  “But right now I don’t have the patience for bondage.”

  “Not the only one with that problem, either. So what are we waiting for?” Her face was on fire now, but so was her whole body, in a good way, craving what Neil offered. Where the hell was she finding this boldness? It was like she’d been saving it up for years. There’d been a time she could be open and playful, but it had faded quickly in the face of real life with a man whose company took off like a stock car at the start of the race, a man whose time and interest in their relationship diminished as his success grew.

  “You have this mole on your left hip. It’s sexy.” That seemed to be his version of an answer. Then he put one big hand on her chest, just above her breasts, and gave her a good shove. She staggered back, but Neil caught her and guided her onto the bed.

  For a few lonely seconds that seemed like hours, he stalked to the nightstand, fumbled in a drawer, and as much as she craved his touch, even that absence excited her because she knew what he sought. Then he was with her on the bed, sprawled by her side like a great cat, fevered heat of his skin warming her. Or maybe that was her body throwing off the heat. She couldn’t tell. All she knew was that she couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t stop herself from exploring his body. Feeling those pretty muscles, and they were pretty, no matter how he’d scoffed at the word. Stroking his cock, remembering how it had been inside her yesterday, how he’d fucked both her pussy and her mouth. “I’d love to feel you in my ass,” she mused out loud. How would that feel, especially with her butt cheeks so tender? She’d experimented with anal during her wild years. As she recalled, she liked it, but it wasn’t something she’d ever done a lot.

  His cock jumped under her hand as she said that, and his balls tightened. “So you like ass sex,” he said, his voice smoky and rough.

  She clenched, and for the first time in ages, she realized her ass as well as her pussy was involved. “I think so,” she admitted, “I used to.”

  “Let me guess, you’re years out of practice.”

  She nodded. Something in his voice made her nervous and she studied the dark green sheets to avoid meeting his eyes. His cock wasn’t faltering, though, and she was wetter than before despite, or maybe because of, her embarrassment, which verged on shame. Had she really just asked for anal sex?

  Yeah, she had. And he seemed to like her boldness.

  “It’s bad to speak ill of the dead, so I won’t.” He caught her wrists, making her shudder with need. “And if you think I’m the one to help you make up for lost time, I’m all for it. There will be time for all the games you want eventually. But right now, I just need to be in you. ASAP.”

  She nodded. “Yes. Please.”

  With a quick motion her over-stimulated brain couldn’t parse, he ended up on top of her. He’d stretched her arms above her head, held her wrists down. He wasn’t trying to enter her, but his cock nudged against her. She opened her legs wider. He slid over her clit, teased at her opening. Need pulsed deep within her, and she wasn’t sure it was purely a physical sensation. It was all she could do not to push up, wrap her legs around him, try to get him inside her even without the condom.

  Maybe there was a good reason to immobilize her hands besides that it was hot as hell. Her brain was definitely in the thrall of her body and Neil’s, and common sense was gone. Maybe it had been blown away by a sea breeze down in Nauset. Maybe she’d been doomed as soon as she’d looked into the blue eyes and saw that cocky, take-charge grin.

  “So wet. Do you know how hot it is to be with a woman who’s as horny as I am and not trying to hide it?”

  “Hid…for too long.” It was getting harder to talk, but she wanted to say that. “Want you.” Trust you, she wanted to add, and need you, but that was just her blissed-out brain playing with her. She did trust him. That was the funny thing, though not enough to say it.

  Because as soon as you said you trusted someone, they could take advantage of it.

  And God forbid you should admit you need someone when it meant something beyond between the sheets right now.

  She’d admitted that to Frank years ago and the admission had taken on a life of its own. A life that led them to a marriage that for both of them had been too comfortable to leave easily, but never really good.

  He
r arousal faltered as memories she didn’t want to examine flooded in. A whimper slipped before she could stop it. Not the fun, sexy kind of whimper either, not what either of them wanted or needed, with his hard cock taunting her clit with something that until a few seconds ago she’d craved.

  He froze. “Suzanne?”

  “I let myself think for a second. That was a mistake.”

  “Not a night for thinking,” he agreed. Good, he assumed she’d meant she’d been thinking about criminal creeps, which were also a fine topic to avoid. “A night for distraction.”

  He worked her hands together—she helped him as soon as she figured out what he was doing—clasped both wrists with one big hand. With his other hand, he began to circle her clit. All his weight lay on her, warm, secure, possessive. His fingers worked magic. His cock still glided between her legs, teasing at the areas his fingers missed.

  His other hand still secured her wrists in the sexiest way; his weight still pinned her down, and combined with the grip on her wrists, she could tell it was a deliberate “don’t move” thing, bondage by bodyweight, not just chance.

  Dear God, this was so good. And he’d all but promised that he’d be tying her up on some future occasion, fulfilling that fantasy. She imagined rope or cuffs where his hands were, and the layer of fantasy made the already hot moment scorching.

  Her worries and memories tried to hang on, tried to control her as they had for so long, but her body wouldn’t let them. Why worry when you can have wild, multi-orgasmic sex instead?

  Sensations flooded her, hot and liquid, burning away everything else. She arched. She couldn’t move much under Neil’s weight, couldn’t budge her hands out of his steely grip, and that turned her on even more. Too much analysis to decide if she was having was a second orgasm or a continuation of the first. All she knew was she couldn’t stop, that pleasure ripped her apart and rebuilt her in ways she hadn’t known were possible, ways she thought were the realm of erotic fiction and the over-the-top, romantic subgenre of it at that. She cried out, unable to stop herself, and Neil caught the cry in his mouth.

  Which stoked the fire again, a sweetness that just added to the conflagration.

  He had to stop touching her clit, had to let go of her wrists, in order to put the condom on. But he stayed in contact with her the whole time, and except for a quick glance at the condom to make sure it was going on right, he kept up eye contact.

  Something about those intense eyes, navy shading toward black as his pupils widened with desire, worked almost like bonds. She couldn’t move under that dark-blue gaze, kept her hands over her head where he’d left them and her legs spread wide. But she could tremble and need and yearn. Could hear the fire roaring in her blood, demanding to be fed.

  He pushed her legs even farther apart, raised her knees. Positioned himself between those spread legs. All the time, he was looking at her. She felt like prey and like a movie star at the same time, vulnerable, desirable and desired. Soon, something in her brain snapped, some last bit of resistance she hadn’t known was there.

  As he entered her, he positioned himself so he could pin her hands down again.

  That restraint, as much as the incredible feeling of his cock opening her up, set her off, sent her soaring. It wasn’t just the fucking, the simple act of penetration, though the way he was moving inside her was enough to make her insane, and he’d angled himself so her clit got plenty of attention with each deep, fierce thrust, and the way she was rippling around him, gripping him, seemed to be making him as wild with desire as he was making her.

  No, his cock, and the skillful way he used it, drove her close to the edge, but it was the strong hands holding her down and the wild blue eyes that captured hers and wouldn’t let her dare to glance away that drove her toward that precipice again. Her pussy clenched. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him in even deeper, because as deep inside her as he was, she wanted more. Wanted something she couldn’t name or describe except that maybe she wanted to fuse with him, erase all distinctions between them.

  But the distinction was there. He was holding her down, in charge. With her heels pressing into his ass, goading him to go faster, fuck harder, and with both of them trembling, tight, on the verge of explosion, he slowed down, letting her feel every excruciating, delicious millimeter of him as he glided in and out. “My pace,” he said through clenched teeth, confirming her suspicions and also confirming it wasn’t easy for him to hold back either. “You choose to play. I choose the details. You can say no if something’s not for you, but otherwise I steer.” He paused for a second. “All right with that? I know this is new for you.”

  “Yes, it’s good,” she whispered, and then, beyond thinking it through, “Yes, sir.” Something fluttered inside her as she spoke, fluttered and then clenched, and it wasn’t as simple as her pussy twitching in excitement. This was something more, something deeper that had to do with his words, the possessiveness and control in them, and her own reaction to them. She’d known she missed rougher play, spanking, a hint of kink to spice sex, but good lord, she hadn’t known how much she needed to submit sexually, to yield to someone else’s force and will. Not the way she’d acquiesced to Frank’s whims because it was easier than fighting them, but because she wanted to follow.

  In this context, following made her stronger.

  Suzanne was doomed. She was Neil’s, at least for this moment, his willing slave if he’d have her. She needed to look away then, escape from that intense gaze, pull back from the moment and hide the crazed feelings he’d turned loose. But she couldn’t. He wouldn’t let her look away, she thought, though she couldn’t explain how he was controlling her. Might be as simple as she didn’t truly want to look away. Wanted to bare her desire, the tumult of her feelings, to him, so he could do with them what he would, as he did with her body.

  “Yes,” she whispered again, rippling around him, unable to be still as he pumped with excruciating slowness and ground against her swollen clit.

  “You’re starting to understand. Good girl.”

  “Thank you,” she said, unsure what, exactly she was thanking him for—his body, the pleasure they’d already shared, the fantasies he’d fulfilled and the promise of more, or even the simple good girl that thrilled her every time he said it. “Thank you, Master.”

  She froze when she realized what she’d said, how lost she’d been in her cloud of fantasies. Neil chuckled throatily, a sound like cognac or bourbon, smooth yet burning, intoxicating. “Way too soon for that, but I like the way it sounds when you say it.” He smiled, and the smile stabbed her.

  It was cool in this hot moment, calculating, and it just made her want him more. She wouldn’t have thought she could want more than she did, but that smile, and the evil, tormenting, delicious expression in his eyes made her shudder, clench harder and beg, “Please. Please.”

  “Please what?” He bit his lip after he finished speaking. This was a tease, an erotic torture for him as well.

  “Please, sir.” For some reason, that seemed like the right response.

  No, seemed like the only response. All the specific pleas she wanted to make, all the things that she would have demanded under other circumstances, being all but dangled over the edge and not allowed to fall, didn’t feel appropriate now. Might never be appropriate with this man, but certainly not tonight.

  Either she guessed right or Neil couldn’t take it anymore himself, because he began to move faster. Slamming into her with all the randy energy of a teenager and the finesse of a grown man with a lot of experience and a great dedication to his lover’s pleasure. She began to keen as her pleasure built. She would have said she was at the precipice before, ready to tumble, but he pushed her higher yet, found a more dangerous edge for her to totter on.

  Then he rocked his hips in a particular way that made her cry out his name and bite her lips against begging for release. “Come,” he deman
ded, and his voice scraped against her clit. “Come with me, Suzanne.” He gripped her wrists tighter as he said it; drove so deep inside her it was almost painful.

  She tumbled over that cliff into the blue of Neil’s eyes, though it was more like flying, and he soared with her, carrying up in his strong arms as he roared his own pleasure to the night.

  * * * * *

  Words started to return to her mind, but they seemed like the wrong words, so she stifled them and snuggled closer, contenting herself with the silent comfort of Neil’s body. The moment felt big, somehow, like there had been more at stake than simply their mutual pleasure; however, she figured with what little higher cerebral function remained, that that was an illusion created because that much pleasure at once was new to her, or might as well be after a long run of decent-enough status-quo sex and several years of not even that.

  Suzanne stifled a chuckle. She’d been ridiculous, calling him Master like that even made sense. And he’d realized it was the intensity of the moment, didn’t take it seriously, but accepted it for what it was.

  Who was she kidding by thinking accepted? He’d enjoyed the hell out of it while it was happening, even while acknowledging it was a bit of fantasy. Fantasy they’d both found scorching hot but still fantasy nonetheless.

  Neil’s breathing slowed. His body relaxed even more, curling around hers. She opened her eyes, shifted so she could see his face.

  He was asleep, as she would be as soon as she let herself drift off. The sculpted planes of his face looked softer, and the faint lines around his eyes, the kind even a thirty-year-old might get from smiling or squinting into the sun, had melted away. God, he was beautiful…but so young. Even with the dark scruff accentuating his cheekbones, even with the memory of those faint lines, even with the uniform on the chair and the gun case under the nightstand, he was achingly young.