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I swallow hard, pulsing with heat at the suggestion, and we keep driving.

Five minutes later, we pull into Levi’s driveway, and he stops, so suddenly that I’m pressed against my seatbelt, jolted from thinking about Levi bending me over the tailgate of his truck.

Before I know it he’s grabbed me, pulled me to the middle of the cab, claimed my mouth with his. His hand finds its way between my legs and even through the layers of fabric, he knows where my clit is, runs his fingers over it as I jolt.

Then he lets me go and he’s driving again, bumping down his long driveway. Even in the dark I can see his erection straining against his pants.

I unbuckle, scoot toward him.

“That’s hardly safe,” he murmurs, even as he slows.

I put an arm around his shoulders, slide my other hand over his thigh.

“Then be careful,” I say, and press my lips against his neck, cup his cock with my other hand. There’s a low rumble from his chest and I pull open the first button on his shirt, the second, tug the neck toward his shoulder and bite the newly-revealed skin there.

Suddenly, the car rocks to a stop. He reaches over me, pushes at the gearshift, kicks the parking brake into place and then the moment that everything is dark and quiet, he presses his lips to mine again.

I throw my leg over him, straddle his lap. I press myself against his thick erection as he pushes his car door open, undoing the last button on his shirt, sliding my hand around his muscled torso.

I feel awful but it doesn’t stop me from wanting him here, now. If anything, it makes it worse, like scratching this itch can obliterate my guilty conscience for a few minutes, like slaking this thirst can make all this go away.

After a moment he takes me by the hips, lifts me off him, and then I’m on the ground and off-balance but Levi’s there, his arm in my hand while I right myself, the heavy truck door shutting.

“I already told you, not in the truck,” he says, that smile in his voice. “I didn’t bring you all the way here just to fuck in there. C’mon.”

With that c’mon he crouches, then lifts me before I know what’s going on and then I’m upside-down, over his shoulder. I yelp and push myself up, hands on his lower back, but Levi doesn’t react. Calmly, he strides up his porch steps, opens his front door.

“Hey, girl,” he tells Hedwig.

Then, to me: “It’s better if you stop wiggling. I’d hate to drop you.”

Levi hangs his keys on a hook as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, then crosses the living room, goes up the stairs. I give up wiggling and shut my eyes.

Through the bedroom door. It shuts, and then he pushes me off his shoulder and onto his bed and I bounce once, already sitting up, kicking off my shoes as he shrugs his shirt from his shoulders.

“Take your clothes off,” he orders me, his hands already on the fly of his pants. The bulge below the zipper is so big that the waistband is gapping away from his skin, and as I watch, Levi slowly, mindlessly slides his fingers along the outline of his cock.

I whisk my shirt off, unhook my bra, throw it somewhere without looking. Levi’s hand is still on his clothed cock and he’s watching me like I’m the first and last thing he’ll ever see.

I lie back on the bed, slide my jeans and panties down over my hips, all at once, kick them until they’re off my feet and Levi finally, finally unzips himself and frees his cock, one hand still wrapped around the base.

Then he’s on top of me, mouth pressed against mine, and it’s every bit as wild and savage as the kisses behind the bar only this time we’re both unclothed in his bed. He kisses me harder, presses my head against the mattress. He palms one breast, brushes his fingers over my nipples, then pinches it almost as hard as I can take, and I moan into his mouth.

“That,” he says, my lower lip between his teeth.

“What?” I whisper.

“That’s why I wanted you here and not the side of the road,” he says. “I want you loud, June.”

He shifts position, pushes my knees apart, kneels over me. My breathing is ragged but I look up at him, put one knee over his shoulder.

“I want you shouting my name and begging me not to stop,” he says, and presses his lips to the inside of my thigh, his other hand roaming my body: breasts, belly, hips, until his thumb finds my clit and strokes it slowly. “You know you do that, don’t you? You forgot about the scratches on my back, after all.”

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