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He let out a frustrated moan and jerked back into his seat, reaching down below. His seat moved and he lifted her up, hauling her into his lap. She scrambled to straddle him. Her elbow knocked the steering wheel. The horn blared but they didn’t even pause.
Their lips met. Their tongues dueled.
She ground against his straining cock, and he covered her hips with his big hands, helping her along. Rocking and surging, their clothes an unwanted barrier.
Everything became hotter. More frantic. More demanding.
He thrust against her aching center and said against her lips, “That’s right. Ride me.” He squeezed her ass hard enough to leave a bruise tomorrow and growled in frustration. “I need to fuck you. I need to bury my cock inside you and pound the hell out of you.”
At his words, it was like a flame burst. She cried out, leaning back against the steering wheel and blaring the horn again. “Yes.”
Then his mouth was on her breast, her nipple in his mouth. She clutched at him. Holding him tighter. She whispered urgently, “Harder. Please, Griff, harder.”
He groaned and sucked deeper, stronger, his other hand coming up to pinch and pluck her other nipple. His teeth sank into her flesh, she keened, and rode his cock, the seams of her jeans a delicious press against her clit.
He created that perfect rhythmic pulling and rubbing, the feel of his erection.
So damn perfect.
She got lost in it.
She never wanted it to end.
The orgasm barreled toward her, but she pushed it away. Because the pleasure coursing through her was almost better than climax . . . it was endless.
There was a loud knock on the windowpane.
She screamed in surprise as reality rushed over her.
Griffin jerked back.
He glared, but they couldn’t see anything as the windows were completely fogged over. Another knock tapped against the glass, and Griffin yanked down her top and his own just as a blaring light shone in the window.
Griffin sat back, raked his hands through his hair, and swore under his breath.
Darcy scrambled back to her seat, shifting and adjusting her clothes. Griffin took a deep breath, seeming to compose himself, before he pressed the button to roll down the window.
The sheriff, Charlie Radcliffe, grinned down at them, tipping his hat. “Evening, Mayor.”
Griffin gritted his teeth. “Charlie.”
“How’s it going?” the sheriff asked in his honeyed voice.
Griffin cocked a brow. “How do you think it’s going?”
He winked at Darcy. “Pretty good, by the looks of things.”
She was going to die from humiliation.
“Can I help you?” Griffin asked, his irritation clear. “Did we not leave you at Mitch and Maddie’s?”
“Why yes, you did.” Charlie gave her another slow smile. “I was on my way home when the call came over the wire. I figured it was on my way, so I might as well check it out.”
“Check what out?” Griffin asked.
Charlie laughed. “Apparently a horn kept going off and someone complained that there were kids out on the service road again.” He ran his gaze over Darcy. “But I had a feeling it was you.”
Griffin ran his hands through his hair, and Charlie laughed again. “Probably not the best idea for the mayor to get caught screwing around in an illegal parking zone.”
