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He sucks on my bottom lip.
Then it's the scrape of his teeth.
My hips shift of their own accord. My hands go to his dark hair. It's too short. I can barely get a grip. But I can.
And I'm not shy about tugging.
He groans. That same low, perfect groan he makes over his coffee.
My sex clenches.
Yes. All. More.
I need to make him groan again. Now.
I rock my hips to grind against him.
He runs his fingertips down my neck. Along my collarbone.
He traces the neckline of my dress. Then he dips below it.
"Fuck." He pulls back. "You're not wearing a bra?"
"The dress is lined. I don't need—"
"You thought about this?" He runs his thumb over my nipple. "When you picked out your dress?"
"Maybe."
"Thought this might happen?"
"Maybe."
"Wanted to drive me crazy?"
"Yes."
"Bad girl." He rolls my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It's hard. Enough, it hurts.
But in a way that makes my sex clench. "Bad girl? For this?" I arch my back, lifting my chest.
He gets my meaning immediately. Rolls my dress down my chest. The sleeves catch as my breasts spill from the fabric. "For teasing me."
"You don't like it?"
"I love it." He kisses me again. The soft brush of his lips. Then the rough scrape of his teeth.
I groan against his mouth as he cups my breasts.
He's slow. Patient. Too patient.
His thumb against my nipple. Up and down. Left and right. Zigzags. Circles.
Softly.
Then harder.
I pull back. "More." I rock my hips. His pants are thin. There's barely any fabric between my sex and his cock. But I need it gone. I need his body joining with mine.
And I need this.
Him teasing me, toying with me, dragging out my bliss.
He rocks his hips to meet mine. Then harder. Enough, he pins me against the car.
Enough, I'm at his mercy.
And he takes his sweet, sweet time toying with me.
Those slow rolls of his thumb.
Then harder.
Faster.
Until—
Fuck. "Ollie." My fingers curl into his hair. "Please, Ollie. Make me come."
"Soon." He brings one hand to my hip. Holds me in place as he toys with my breast. Those perfect slow circles again and again.
Mmm.
Such wonderful, horrible agony.
He winds me tighter and tighter.
I rock my hips, reaching for him.
He groans as his cock brushes my pelvis. "Not yet, angel."
Angel. Fuck. The pet name sets me on fire.
He notices. He's glued to me. Watching every breath, every groan, every shift. Staring like I'm a mock-up he's perfecting.
Like I'm the only thing he's ever needed.
He brings his hand to my outer thigh. To the hem of my dress.
He traces the line over my legs, then back again.
Again.
Again.
"Please." My voice rises to a whine. I should hate it. Hate how much I need. How desperate I am for his touch.
But I don't.
I love it. I crave it. I want all of it, all the time, always.
My eyes fall closed as he traces the hemline again.
Again.
Again.
Finally, his fingers brush my inner thigh.
The fabric of my panties.
"Fuck." It falls off my lips.
He lets out a grunt of approval. Shifts his hips so I can feel his hard-on. "Look at me."
My eyes blink open. Meet his.
God, his blue eyes are so beautiful like this. Filled with the perfect mix of need, anticipation, control, desire.
His eyes stay locked with mine as he slips his fingers into my panties.
The pressure of his hand overwhelms me. His skin against mine. Oliver touching me.
It's almost too much to take.
"You get this wet for me, angel?" He breathes.
The pet name sets me on fire. I barely manage to nod. I'm too lost in anticipation. "Please."
"Please, what?"
"Ollie—"
His teeth scrape my neck.
"Touch me. Please."
"Like this?" His fingers skim my inner thigh.
"Make me come. Please."
He slips two fingers inside me. It's hard and fast. Almost too much. But somehow not enough too. "More."
He slips his fingers deeper.
Deeper.
Fuck. It's too much. It's not enough. It's everything.
He watches me carefully. Waits until my breath steadies and my brow softens. Then he pulls his fingers back and drives them into me again.
Softly at first.
Then harder.
Harder.
There.
"Fuck," I breathe. "Like that."
He nods. Brings his lips to mine.
Kisses me as he drives his fingers into me.
That perfect pressure.
Again and again.
I kiss him back as hard as I can. Like I'm claiming him. Like this is all I get.
We're a perfect circle of need.
His fingers driving into my sex.
His tongue dancing with mine.
Bringing me closer and closer—
Winding me tighter and tighter—
So fucking close.
But not close enough.
He pulls back. Breaks our kiss. "Show me." His free hand finds my wrist. "Show me what you need to come, angel."
Fuck, that's so hot. The deep tone, the demand, the patience.
I nod. Run my hand over his neck, chest, stomach, hips.
He shifts enough I can cup him over his slacks.
He's so hard and warm and huge. And I need that. All of it.
I run my palm over him, rubbing him over his slacks.
