Page 111 of Heal Me, Love Me

“Good.”

He kissed me again, and it turned messy fast, all teeth and tongue and his hips grinding against my palm while his good hand dragged over my stomach and hooked at my waistband. He couldn’t get my jeans open with one hand, but the frustrated sound he made against my mouth did enough damage on its own. I helped him because I was seconds from losing my mind, and as soon as my zipper came down, he slipped inside and wrapped his hand around me. “Fuck.” I tightened my hold on his hip. “Baby.”

“Yeah.” His mouth moved against mine. “That’s what I wanted.”

I stroked him while he rubbed me, both of us too cramped and too turned on to care if any of it was smooth. The windows fogged around us, the old seats creaked under his knees, and his breathing grew rougher each time my hand moved over him. Every sound he tried to swallow made me want another one.

I hooked a finger in the collar of his hoodie and tugged it aside so I could kiss along the side of his throat—remaining careful around the sling—then bit softly where his pulse beat beneath my mouth.

His hand tightened in my hair. “Ro.”

“I’ve got you.”

“I know.” His hips jerked into my grip. “I want you inside me.”

“Good.”

I pushed his pants down over his hips, just far enough to get my hand on his ass. The back seat didn’t give us much room, but he lifted enough to help, his good hand holding my shoulder while I worked the fabric lower.

Then I grabbed the lube from the pocket of my sweatshirt and slicked two fingers. He stayed facing me, his mouth inches from mine, our foreheads almost touching and his breathinguneven as I slipped my hand behind him and worked one into him.

“Okay?” I asked.

“Yes.” His voice was rough. “More.”

I gave him more. Slowly at first, then deeper when he rocked back on my hand and took it. He gripped my shoulder, then the seat beside my head when he needed more balance. Every time my fingers pressed into him the right way, his body responded, his cock leaking over my knuckles while I stroked him with my other hand.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Right there.”

I did it again.

His mouth fell open, but no sound came out at first, only air and need and the restraint I wanted to rip right out of him.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” I told him.

His eyes opened. “You can’t say shit like that with your fingers in my ass.”

“I can say whatever I want.”

“Then say you’re going to fuck me.”

I stopped for half a second. He smiled, all heat and challenge, and I was gone.

“I’m going to fuck you,” I growled. “Turn around.”

His breath caught. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I dragged my mouth along his throat, then pulled my fingers free. “I want to watch you take me.”

Keaton lifted carefully and began to turn in my lap, bracing himself with his left hand on the driver’s seat. It wasn’t smooth. His knee bumped the seat, his sling got in the way, and I had to adjust my position enough to shove my jeans and boxers down to free my dick.

With his feet planted on the floorboard and his knees spread outside my thighs, his good hand gripped the driver’s seat while he leaned forward enough to give me room. The position gaveme exactly what I wanted: him over me, his body open for me, and his ass hovering against my dick while he waited for me to take him.

I got more lube on my hand and slicked myself while he stayed braced in front of me. Then I lined myself up behind him, and he lowered down slowly, taking me inch by inch. He was hot and tight, and watching him make himself take all of me nearly took me out before we even got started.

I gripped his hips and held him steady while he took the rest of me. His head dropped forward, and his hair fell around his face. He rocked once, testing the angle, and I had to bite back a groan.

“That’s it,” I breathed. “Use the seat.”