And took.
And took.
Even when she shifted.
Even when she tried to pull free.
Even when she fought the hold.
More of her sweet taste flooded my mouth as she cried out sharply, her body strung tight. That tension broke as she came apart with a muffled scream.
Finally.
Her taste was better than my fantasies, and I kept the relentless pressure until she loosened, only then easing to gentle glides of my tongue. When I was sure I had every drop, I sat back.
Even with the bench supporting her, her knees gave out, and I pulled her down onto my lap. That time when I kissed her, she didn’t try to turn away from the taste. She opened, pliant and relaxed as she gave me what I couldn’t get enough of.
Pulling away, I rested my head on her forehead for a second as we caught our breath. I slid the blindfold off, and she blinked a few times, but they were slow. Dazed. I cupped her jaw and tipped her head so I could meet her unfocused eyes.
I gave her some time without words, slowly redressing her in between brushes of my lips and gentle touches. If she was going to stiffen and pull away—physically and emotionally—I was greedily taking what I could first.
But when she started to move, it wasn’t to distance herself. Tilting her head, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she wiggled on my lap, testing my hard-on and my control. “Why are you putting my clothes back on? You haven’t…”
“A different time,” I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Shockingly, she didn’t point out that it was a one-time deal. She just nodded.
“Up, baby,” I ordered gently, and she did as I said, swaying a little on her feet. I gripped her hips to keep her upright. “I’m driving you home.”
That got an argument. “I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“But my car is here.”
“We’ll get it tomorrow morning.”
“I have an early class.”
“I’m aware.”
She opened her mouth before looking up at me. She must’ve seen I wasn’t going to back down because she shut it again with a jerky little nod.
I slowly released my hold, making sure she was steady before I stepped away to turn on the lights and blow out the candles.
Greer was more out of it than I realized because it wasn’t until that moment that she said, “The lights were off?” She started to turn before freezing with her focus on the window. “Was that curtain there the whole time?”
My lips curled into a smirk. “You didn’t think I’d actually let anyone see, did you?”
Her wide eyes darted from the curtain to me and back again.
I took advantage of her distraction and wrapped an arm around her shoulder to guide her out into the hall. She remained silent as we walked through the club and out to the parking lot. She didn’t even try again to insist she could drive herself.
Pulling her out of the way so I could open the butterfly door, she all but flopped into the passenger seat with barely a reaction. I rounded the car and got in to start the engine.
“What kind of car is this?” she asked as I reversed.
“McLaren.”
