Page 74 of What We Burn

I roll my hips again, slow and deliberate, and Milo’s hands come down to anchor my ass in place. His head tips forward, his mouth at my ear, voice low and full of all the things he can’t keep to himself.

“You wanna make Holden crazy?”

He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he pulls me into a kiss—messy, hot, tongue already deep, and I moan into it, half because I know it’ll drive Holden insane, half because Milo tastes like sin.

Holden’s eyes flick up to the mirror. “If you fuck in my car, I will⁠—”

“You’ll what?” I ask, breaking the kiss just long enough to meet his eyes. “Put me under house arrest? Isn’t that what you’re already trying to do?”

His glare in the mirror could flay skin, but his grip on the steering wheel loosens.

Milo’s teeth graze my throat, Holden’s eyes darken, and the car swerves just enough to remind us we’re doing this at seventy miles an hour.

“Jesus—eyes on the road,” Milo laughs against my skin, but his hands are already working my shirt up, fingers splaying over my ribs. “Unless you want to watch. In which case, pull over.”

“I’m not pulling over,” Holden grits out, but his gaze keeps darting to the mirror, watching as Milo yanks my shirt over my head, exposing my bare breasts to the cool air of the car. My nipples harden instantly, and Milo wastes no time, leaning in to suck one into his mouth—hot, wet pulls that make me arch and gasp.

“Fuck, Milo—yes,” I moan, grinding down on his cock, feeling him throb through his jeans. The friction is delicious, building heat low in my belly, but it’s not enough. I fumble with his zipper, freeing him, and he groans around my nipple as I stroke him—slow, firm pumps that have him bucking into my hand.

Holden’s knuckles are white on the wheel, his jaw locked, but every few seconds his eyes flick back, heated and hungry. “Fucking hell,” he mutters. “Don’t get come on my seats.”

“I make no promises.” Milo switches to my other breast, his free hand sliding between us to rub my clit through my panties.

I moan, then shove them aside and sink down onto him slowly, inch by inch, savoring the stretch. “Oh God—Milo, so good.”

“Fuck, kitten—tight as always,” he growls, thrusting up to meet me, his hands gripping my hips as I ride him—slow rolls turning faster, harder, the car filling with the wet sounds of us, my moans mixing with his grunts.

Holden’s breathing is ragged now, the car speeding up slightly as his focus slips. “You’re fucking killing me,” he mutters, eyes glued to the mirror, watching my body bounce with every thrust, Milo’s cock disappearing inside me. The distraction shows—the speedometer creeps higher, and he swerves again, correcting with a curse.

“Focus on the road, detective,” Milo taunts. “Or pull over and join.”

“No time,” Holden snaps, but his voice is strained, arousal thick in every word.

I’m close already—the thrill of being watched, the risk of the highway, Milo’s skilled touches pushing me to the edge. “Milo—fuck, I’m gonna come,” I gasp, riding him harder, my head falling back as the orgasm builds, tight and hot.

“Fuck, kitten.”

“Yes! Milo!” Pleasure crashes over me, my body clenching as I come hard. Milo follows with a groan, spilling inside me, his hips jerking erratically.

At that exact moment, Holden overshoots the turn-off, cursing as he slams on the brakes. The car skids slightly before he regains control, throwing it into reverse and backing up to the parking garage entrance, tires screeching.

“Fucking hell,” he growls, pulling in and parking roughly. He kills the engine, turning in his seat to glare at us, but his eyes are dark with lust. “You two are impossible.”

Milo grins, still buried inside me, his hands roaming my back. “Worth it, though.”

I laugh breathlessly, leaning forward to kiss Milo softly. “Definitely worth it.”

Holden shakes his head, but there’s a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Get dressed. We’re late enough as it is.”

Every time we enter Unholy Desires, I immediately wonder what it would be like to come to the club during opening hours. In daylight, it looks almost wholesome—an elegant, high-quality converted manor house in the exclusive part of town.

Knox opens the door before we knock—he’s been here all night, working security, and he looks it. His stubble is darker than usual, sleeves rolled to his forearms.

“You’re late.” He looks at me. Then past me at Holden and Milo.

“She’s in a mood,” Holden says. “Don’t piss her off or she’ll start fucking everyone but you.”

Knox’s mouth twitches in what could generously be called a smile, but instead of a greeting he holds the door open wider, ushering me in with a palm on the small of my back. I’m still glowy with aftershocks, sticky-wet in my underwear, and fully aware that he can probably smell Milo on me.