by Kari Gregg
"Nice?" His eyes narrowed.
Her mouth curved. "Okay. I think we both know it was better than nice." A kid walked by leading a black and white Border Collie on a leash; she leaned into his truck window. Close enough for Mitch to smell her, something musky and vanilla this time.
"But when you brought me back to my car . . . ." Her voice hushed. She fidgeted.
"I thought we understood each other."
She bit her lip again and Mitch damn near exploded. She wouldn't have a frigging mouth left, the way she kept gnawing at it. "We do understand each other. Perfectly. Get in the truck, Liv."
Her brow furrowed. "I don't want to get involved. For God's sake, you're even more screwed up than I am." She winced. "No offense."
"None taken."
Principally because she was right.
That didn't stop him from jerking his chin at the passenger side door. She shook her head.
Snarling temper streaked through him. He clenched the steering wheel. "I don't want a relationship, honey. I want to fuck."
She gasped.
"We had a good time. No reason we can't keep having a good time as long as we agree that we're just untangling the knots they tie us into." He glared at the trailers before refocusing his attention on her. "Don't tell me it doesn't eat at you. I know that it does."
She fidgeted. "That doesn't excuse—"
"Being with you helped me put it away." He stared through the windshield, his body stiff. Tense. "You don't want me messing up your life? Fine. I won't. I don't want you fucking up mine. But it was good, Liv." He darted a glance at her. "Too good to not want it again."
Her dark eyes glittered with uncertainty and nervous fear. She shifted from foot to foot.
"Run away with me again, Livvy. Even if it's only for a few hours." His heart raced as he stared at her. "Don't think about it. Just get in the truck." She exhaled a long, jittery breath.
Anchoring her purse on her shoulder, Liv rounded the hood, opened the passenger door, and climbed in.
Chapter Five
After they made the left at the intersection, he glanced at her in the flicker of passing streetlights. Liv's cheeks had flushed pink. Her fingers clutched at her purse strap like the fricking thing was a life preserver. She was a bundle of nerves. So was he.
"Are you really on the pill?"
Her stare whipped to greet his, dark eyes shining with indignation. "Are you calling me a liar?"
Mitch's shoulders sagged in relief. "No, baby, I'm not calling you a liar." Not now he wasn't. "Just wanted to know if I should stop somewhere to pick up condoms." Her mouth thinned. "I didn't grab my purse when I high-tailed it out of Dad's last week." She indicated her bag with a stiff yank. "I always carry rubbers with me." He nodded, kept his eyes on the road. "I won't wear one." Minutes stretched.
His stomach tightened.
He risked another glance her way, but her eyes were focused on the road, her jaw straight and stubborn.
He couldn't read her.
But she hadn't screamed at him or demanded that he take her home so he tried again. "If you're on the pill . . . and neither one of us has had sex with anyone else this past week—"
"What kind of slut do you think I am, exactly?" she said through gritted teeth. He shoved his fingers through his hair.
This was not working out like he'd hoped. "All I'm saying is if either one of us has an STD, we swapped it last week. Damage done."
"So now I'm a skank who spreads disease?"
He groaned in frustration, glared at her. "No, god damnit, I'm telling you that I don't want to wear a fucking rubber!"
"Oh." She settled back in her seat, the tension in her body slowly draining. "Don't be vulgar."
He turned into his apartment complex. "Don't give me that crap, either." He nosed the truck into an empty parking place near the dumpsters, pitched his voice high to mimic hers. " Fuck me, Mitch. Please, please fuck me. " He ripped the keys from the ignition and faced her. "You like it hot and dirty, the dirtier the better. You're probably already wet."
Liv gaped at him in the dull glow of the lot's floodlights. "What?" He rubbed a hand over his face, tired, horny as hell, and edgy with it. He blew out a long, slow breath. "Why are we biting and tearing at each other?"
"I don't know." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I-I'm nervous, I guess."
"Yeah. Me, too. C'mon." He climbed out of the cab, slammed the door, and circled the truck so he could pull her into his arms. Not to kiss her. That'd come later. For now, he needed to ease the tension that was twisting them both into knots. Liv stiffened, probably expecting him to leap on her like a lecherous prick, but once she figured out he only wanted to hold her, she curled into his chest. If he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend they were kids hiding from their parents again. "If this isn't what you want, if you changed your mind, I'll drive you back." It might kill him, but he'd do it. "No harm. No foul."
When he stroked a lazy hand up and down her spine, she stretched under it like a sleek cat. "I haven't changed my mind." Her head lifted from his shoulder, her eyes dark, direct, and glittering with anxiety. "Have you?" He bent. His mouth slanted over hers. No gentle sampling, no soft brush of lips. Mitch had little use for gentleness. Besides, that wasn't what she needed, not from him. When her lips parted on a breathy gasp, he speared his tongue inside to plunder. Liv's fingers dug into his shoulders as he pivoted and pushed her into the passenger door of his truck with his hips. She'd feel how hard he was. Know how fiercely he wanted. Her mouth was pliant under his, but her body trembled with just the right amount of nervy reluctance.
Mitch liked it. A lot.
She wanted, too.
Liv was scared, maybe as scared as he was, but she needed as badly as he did. He nudged her sweater up at her waist and fumbled for the zipper along the side of her skirt.
"Wait." She tore her mouth from his, grabbed his fingers. "Stop." His hand stilled, but he didn't pull back. Instead, he opened his mouth over her neck and tasted. "Stop?" He breathed against her soft, scented skin. "Why? When we both know we'll feel a whole lot better once I'm inside you." She shivered.
He chuckled.
"I'm not backing out. I want . . . this." She pushed at his hand on her zipper. "Just not here."
Feral delight blossomed inside him. Part of the fun was the chase, convincing the lady to let him fuck her. He and Liv had sort of skipped that part, but that didn't mean he couldn't challenge her. Set the wilder pieces of him free.
This was Liv.
He'd be safe with Livvy.
He shifted his lips to trace the skin peeking from the neckline of her sweater. "It's late. Dark. My apartment is on the corner of the unit, practically behind the building. The truck will hide us," he whispered, then licked. "No one'll see." She shook her head.
But she'd angled her jaw up to give him better access. "We're right by the dumpster. Anyone could come, t-take out the trash. Inside—"
"No." He brushed her hand aside. "Here." The rasp of her zipper lowering set him on fire. "Right here." He stared into her wide eyes, heart thudding against his ribcage as his fingers snagged the waist of her skirt, her panties, and pantyhose. "I'll leave your coat on. If somebody comes before we do, they'll only see your coat." Her pupils dilated with arousal so dark they seemed black. "They'll hear us." He smiled, walking her skirt inch by delectable inch down her hips. "Only if you want them to." He paused to brush his fingers over her exposed clit. Her breath caught.
He smothered a groan at how slick her pussy already was. "You're as hot for this as I am. Don't say no," he said, then kissed her to make sure she couldn't tell him to stop. Not before he'd inched her clothes down her thighs, anyway, and by then, it was a done deal.
His mouth released hers only so he could kneel on the gritty pavement, pull the narrow skirt to her ankles. His pulse thrummed at her short, shallow breaths as she kicked off her respectable shoes. He lifted one calf, then the other, so she could step free of hose and the puddle of fabric.<
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Since he was already down there, he skated his mouth up one of her newly bared legs, dipped a tongue into the back of her knee. Her whispery moan, as his mouth skimmed higher, rocketed through him. With his chin, he nudged her thighs wider.
"We'll get caught," she said in a hushed whisper when his lips reached her pussy.
"Let them watch," he said and dove in.
He planted his mouth over her engorged clit, sucked, and laved her with his tongue.
She groaned.
Loud.
Too loud.
And so sexy Mitch almost embarrassed himself, but it was worth it, so worth it when she smacked a hand over her mouth—too late to muffle the passionate sounds she made—and stabbed the other hand's fingers into his hair so hard her fingernails scraped his scalp.
Oh yeah.
This was what he wanted. Exactly what he wanted.
He ate at her with a ferocity that set her legs to trembling, made it impossible for her to keep quiet.
She panted. And cried. And pleaded.
But he didn't make her come.
That was a treasure she awarded him, a gift to be savored, and all the more special by her generosity in giving it.
He certainly shouldn't share it with the asshole whose shoes he'd heard scrape the pavement by the dumpster.
So when he felt her orgasm drawing close, the violent quake of her body nearing the edge of release, he pulled back. Pushed to his feet. Drunk on sex, she staggered against him, which made it easier to drag her into his arms. She twined hers around his neck. Offered her mouth to him and hooked one calf around his knee. Spreading herself wide for him.
"Mitch," she moaned against his lips.
Christ, he loved how she said his name.
He kissed her.
What in the fuck else was he supposed to do? Tell her no—that some prick was watching them? Nuh uh. Nope. She'd screech and shriek. He'd never get between those thighs again. So when she pushed her tongue into his mouth, tangled it with his, he took. His body trembled. His cock was so hard, he hurt. Physically hurt. He had to have her, needed to feel her body tight around him. "Inside," he groaned, tearing his mouth away. "Time to go, Livvy."
She shoved a hand down, between their bodies.
Reached for his zipper.
His eyes slammed shut.
Oh Jesus.
Oh shit.
When she outlined the shape of his dick through his jeans, Mitch's honorable intentions evaporated like a puff of smoke. Let the bastard watch. As long as Liv got his cock out of his pants before he drilled a hole in the denim.
"Easy, babe," he panted, "or the party's going to be over before we get started." She laughed into his mouth.
The witch.
He grabbed her shoulders, flipped her around so she faced the truck, and running his hands down her arms, he planted her splayed fingers on the passenger door to brace her. He leaned in, nipped at her earlobe. "I want to fuck you like this." And he wanted the guy near the dumpster to see him take her from behind, ride her hard, fuck her until she practically sobbed with the sheer animal pleasure of it. Like this.
He stepped back, pushed her long dress coat aside so he could stroke the curve of her ass. Her skin shone luminescent in the shadows. Ripe. Begging to be touched. He stroked her, cupped one pale cheek, squeezed.
She whispered his name again, squirmed.
So he smacked it.
She jerked at the sharp slap of his palm on her butt, yelped in surprise. "Ow!
Damn it, Mitch—"
He swatted her again, harder this time. "Shut up."
She cried out.
She didn't break free from him, though.
Instead, she stood there, mutely trembling, while he rubbed at the reddening mark he'd made on her butt cheek.
Interesting.
Mitch smiled.
Very interesting.
But this was a possibility to be explored later. For now, he needed too badly. He trailed his hand from her ass to his zipper.
And grinned when her breath caught at the rasp of it lowering.
He freed himself from his jeans, his dick springing hard and heavy from the stiff, confining denim. His balls were so tight, he wouldn't last long once he drove into her. At least, he wouldn't last with the hard ride he planned to give her. She'd come. He'd wound her body to the brink of orgasm with his mouth. Of course, she'd come. But he wanted the orgasm to explode through her, the climax so violent and consuming it obliterated everything else.
Mitch stroked his cock with one hand and brushed the other down her arm, her back, skimmed down the crack of her luscious rear. She gasped when he eased the tip of one finger into her wet, waiting pussy. He pressed down and tugged. Slipping his thumb into her puckered ass, he stopped both finger and thumb at the first knuckle.
"Mitch?"
"Shh." He set a slow, steady pace, pumping just the tips of his finger and thumb in and out of her in time with the stroke of his hand on his dick. Liv whimpered. "I want—"
He pushed the tip of a second finger into her, easing his fingers and thumb in to his second knuckles.
Fucked all three digits into her.
She groaned.
Mitch gritted his teeth. "I know what you want."
When she arched her spine, tilting her lovely pussy and asshole in debauched invitation, he shoved his hand forward until she encased him to the hilt, her cunt slapping hot and wet into his palm. She quivered and moaned as he played with both of her holes. When she heedlessly, breathlessly ground her hips into the double prick he'd made of his fingers and thumb, he shuddered.
Mitch's mind spun.
When she panted, he panted along with her. When she groaned, he felt it coiling in his balls. The only thing that mattered was the frantic rock of her body against his hand and her low, feral cries.
He slowed, forcing Liv to pick up the pace. She worked her hips, desperately humped his hand so his fingers and thumb pumped her dripping pussy and tight asshole with increasing, bone-melting rapidity. Mitch had never seen anything as beautiful as Liv double fucking herself, mewling and crying and grunting while she bucked her hips up and down on his fingers, his thumb. Her muscles bunched as she fucked his hand faster and faster and faster still. Her ass cheeks flexed and tensed. Mitch's cock grew impossibly harder and thicker.
When she stiffened, he ripped his hand free of her sucking, grasping holes. She cried out in stunned, shuddering protest, but Mitch stepped forward, slammed his dick into her. Tight as a drum, her cunt clamped down on him in the grips of brutal orgasm. He fucked his way through it, thrust hard, so hard her body pitched forward, flattening her against the passenger door of his truck.
A primitive, keening wail tore from her lips.
Mitch ignored it.
He grunted, hammering his dick in and out of her. An inferno. He was fucking an inferno. The heat scorched him, singed his nerve endings. He couldn't think any more. Just feel. The taut clench of her around him. The scent of her pussy on his fingers as he rode her. The cool brush of her ass cheeks against his belly with each stroke.
"Please. Please." She chanted between shaky, gasping pants. "Oh God." She came again, but he didn't care. His own orgasm nipped at him with serrated teeth as he pounded his cock in and out of her. He wanted to come. God, how he needed to come, but the orgasm toyed with him, danced just out of reach. He couldn't stand another second.
He never wanted it to end.
He—
His vision grayed.
The world slipped out of focus.
Pleasure exploded inside him like a supernova. His jaw clenched. His back bowed when he hammered his dick home, and crushing release flooded over him. A long, harsh groan tore from his throat as his dick jerked and spurted inside her. He wanted to weep. He wanted to curse, but he was helpless to do either, caught up in the maelstrom of a climax so keen he felt shredded by it. His only anchor was Liv, the tight grip of her body promising never to let him go.
; Panting, he fell on her back.
Oh fuck.
Sweet baby Jesus.
He shook his head, sucked in air, but his heart thrashed against his ribcage. His ears still rang.
He didn't even mind that one of his neighbors had just watched him fuck his girlfriend, lose control, then shatter into a thousand pieces.
That's how good it was.
Scrambling hard to re-gather his brains, Mitch groaned.
Wait a minute.
Girlfriend?
Chapter Six
Still shaking, Mitch brushed aside the tangled hair that had escaped the knot at her nape. He skated a kiss over her neck.
Girlfriend?
Liv wasn't his girlfriend. She was his sometime-lover. And that was something he had to earn. Liv would be his regular Friday night lay only as long as he convinced her that screwing him was so good, so shattering she needed more. Of him. Of what he could do to her.
So she wasn't his girlfriend. Thinking like that was the one thing guaranteed to drive her away.
Besides . . . .
Guys didn't do to their girlfriends all the lovely wicked things Mitch wanted to do to Liv.
When she moaned, he grinned.
"You smacked me."
"I swatted your ass." He corrected her. "Then, I fucked it." She sniffed in disdain. "Did not."
"With my thumb." The scrape of the dumpster guy's shoe tickled his ears again. Mitch wondered if it'd been half as good for him as it'd been for Mitch, if the guy was mopping himself up, folding his dick back into his pants, breathing hard, and trying to get a grip on his whirling senses. "Hell, the way you were grinding into my hand, you did more of the fucking than I did."
She shivered.
"I smacked your bare ass." He bent to her ear. "I shoved my thumb up inside it," he said, "and you loved every minute. You'll like being draped over my knee more. With my dick pumping your ass, spanked cherry red, you'll go off like a rocket." When she glared over her shoulder, he stepped back, eased his softening cock out of her. He stuffed it back into his jeans and zipped up. "You hungry? I bought groceries so there's food in the apartment this time."
