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Miles of desert road disappeared under their tires as scenery sped past either side of them. With their high beams the only source of light so far away from the city, it felt like traveling through space. Maybe another girl would have liked loud music on this kind of drive, but for Addison, the roar of the motor was more exhilarating than any guitar solo. With the Spyder’s top down, and Fox driving like they were trying to qualify for Nascar, there was no chatting.
Where was he taking her? It seemed like the long, straight stretch had gone on for eternity by the time he pulled off in the middle of nowhere. They followed a smaller, dirt road that curved behind a low rise. When he parked alongside the road, he turned off the ignition but left the lights blazing. Open desert yawned before them. Behind, the hill concealed them from the main road.
Fox stalked around to her side of the car and yanked the door open. He looked . . . evil. The dark heat in his gaze, paired with a single-minded intensity and the powerful way he moved made her quiver in her seat.
“What are we doing here?” she asked, smirking up at him. “Some sort of romantic midnight picnic? You should have told me. I would have sent you some Pinterest links.”
“So we could eat watercress sandwiches from mason jars?” He arched a brow. “Get out of the car, Addison.”
“But I’m not dressed for a romantic walk,” she protested coyly. “I’m wearing flip-flops, and I don’t even see a beach.” She surveyed the desert pointedly.
He leaned over her and picked her up out of the car, then threw her over his shoulder.
“Hey!” she protested. “Put me down, Tarzan. Your arm is barely healed.”
Without a word, he walked around her open car door and put her down again on the other side. He turned her roughly and shoved her facedown on the hood.
He was in that kind of mood, was he? Mmm . . . she approved. The car would be worth less if they scratched it before they sold it off, but hey, if he didn’t care, why should she?
“And what did I do to inspire this?” she asked, laughing to cover the flare of arousal that came with him manhandling her. He’d been working hard to get past the damage Marcel’s bullet had done to his deltoid. God, he was even more built than before, and he was growling in her ear.
“You exist. That will always be enough. Now, quit treating me like I’m breakable, woman.” He drew the back of her dress up until he got an eyeful of the underwear she wasn’t wearing. There was a sound of pained disbelief. “I think you forgot something.”
“Damn, did I leave the oven on again?”
“You think you’re going to be a funny girl right now, huh?”
The sound of his belt coming off only added to the slickness between her thighs. She loved him like this—horny, half-crazed, wild and almost out of control. Nervously, she rifled through her brain for the safeword she hadn’t yet used. Someday he’d probably make her use it, but so far he’d been good at sensing when she needed him to slow down. She braced, anticipating the hard sting of the leather connecting with her ass, but instead he pulled back her arms and belted her elbows together. She struggled to slip free while keeping an eye on him, but only succeeded in wriggling under his hungry scrutiny.
He buried a fist in her hair. “Where do you think you’re going?”
His breath was warm on her ear, and she could feel him fumbling with the button of his jeans already.
“That depends on if you’re going to fuck me or not.”
His callused palm slid over her bare ass then swatted her sharply. The tingle it left was delicious and she arched up for more.
“What have we talked about, sweetness?” The eerie calm of his voice and tighter grip on her hair made this hotter. “I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready.”
He wasn’t ready? Damn. Obviously, she was doing something wrong. She arched her back to try to entice him.
He chuckled darkly then three more swats followed, stinging, ramping up the thudding of her heart.
She struggled then, and he untangled his hand from her hair and held her down with his body, her bound arms trapped between them. With negligible effort he shoved her feet apart with his big boots and crammed his denim-covered erection against her sensitive flesh. It was even worse than wearing tight jeans with a seam that tended to ride up, but she rubbed against the rough fabric, trying to get his erection to hit just the right spot, but only managed to inch herself higher onto the hood.
Even though he hadn’t exerted himself much, Fox was breathing hard. Maybe his cock was stealing his oxygen. He grabbed her hips hard and dragged her back down to him.
“Are you done being a bad girl, Addison, or do you need me to teach you some manners?”
She rested her forehead on the Spyder’s smooth paint, feeling like she was living an echo of the day they’d almost been late for her tattoo appointment.
Her answer came out as a wordless moan. Damn, the man knew all the right things to say.
His breath shook in her ear. “Maybe I should fuck your ass dry to remind you who’s in charge in this relationship,” he said, his voice low and nasty. “You didn’t like that very much the last time, did you?”
She shook her head hard and whined, which only made him laugh. The spit he’d eventually used had made it more bearable, but she preferred lube and patience, even though her aching body had loved the display of dominance.
“When you struggle it gives me the impression you want it rough.”
